


Plan B

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-07
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: What would've happened if Travis' suggestion was taken in United.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Plan B

A/N: A "what would've happened" if the first solution Travis and Hoshi found actually turned out to be the one they followed. Thanks, Monica!

Spoilers: United and the Andorian arc.

Travis looked over a PADD containing combat information and gave a wry smile. Ever since Hoshi had pooh-poohed his idea of getting the captain hitched, something in him knew it was the right thing to do ... the only thing to do.

_One of the MACOs, Donahue, entered the Bridge to drop off something with the woman sitting at Malcolm’s station – Yates. It was then they all got the word that Archer had agreed to replace the Tellarite in the duel. The captain would be in a fight to the death with Shran._

_As the words were spoken, the Vulcan stood up from the captain’s chair._

_“We had not spoken about this,” she said. It was obvious she was hoping to correct the MACO._

_“Sorry ma’am,” he said. “I was outside Commander Shran’s quarters when it happened.”_

_“Where is the captain now?” she asked._

_“I think his room. He joked he needed to brush up on his fighting skills and read more about Andorian law.”_

_“Oh?” she said. The tone of her voice was neither angry nor mocking, but stoically dry … as if somewhere between angry and mocking._

_With that, she made a beeline for the turbolift, barely mentioning Hoshi was in charge. Donahue raised his eyebrows and continued to talk with Yates._

_Hoping to make eye contact with Hoshi, Travis gave her a sheepish smile. The communications officer always had theories about what was happening, mostly because she monitored all ship’s communications. Although a born gossiper, she tried to keep private communications private. Fortunately for everyone who wanted to gossip with her, they could usually trap her into telling them through cunning and deceit. For example, when she got the news about T’Pol’s divorce, she gasped. It was like a tactical alert to gossip. In an instant Reed was at her station trying to guess the news. Twenty minutes later almost the entire bridge knew about Koss’ communiqué._

_This time Hoshi wasn’t budging and kept her eyes focused on the boards._

_After about half an hour, near the end of his shift, he got up and watched the Vulcan skulk out of the elevator and over to Hoshi’s station. Yeah, the Vulcan was definitely mad._

_“Hoshi, I’d like you to look into something for me,” T’Pol began._

_These orders usually lasted hours. Actually, the communications officer rarely got those orders from T’Pol, but when she did – they meant business. Travis gave a sad shrug and filed into the turbolift._

That was six hours ago and he the communications officer were in the deserted Mess Hall looking over files trying to find something, anything, that might help the captain. As the clock ticked over to 0210, Travis leaned over to Hoshi.

“I think the captain is screwed. The best I could do was find a few rules about incapacitating an Andorian. But, let’s face it … Captain Archer can’t take Commander Shran.”

Hoshi’s mouth slid down. “You’re right.”

“I’ve got a crazy idea, and before you say ‘no,’ just hear me out. You said Captain Archer had to have a wife, right?”

Hoshi gave a nod and was about to protest, when Travis spoke up. “And he has no heir.”

“Why are you looking at me?” she asked.

“Well, I was thinking you’re not married and ….”

Hoshi shook her head. “No way. I mean, I want to help him, but ….”

“All right, well … you told me that T’Pol got divorced ….”

“If I won’t go for the idea, there’s no way in hell she will.”

“I’m willing to ask her.”

“Even if T’Pol says ‘yes,’ which I _seriously_ doubt she will, the captain would never … _never_ agree to it.”

Travis gave a shining smile. “What if the captain doesn’t know?”

“How are you going to get him married without him knowing about it?” she asked.

“Phlox told me one of the degrees a Denobulan doctor has to have is in theology, so they can perform last rites or a funeral if necessary. He let it slip after a few drinks on Earth that he could also perform weddings.”

Skeptically, Hoshi wagged her ponytail in the air to strongly disagree with her friend. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Leave that up to me. Come on,” he said, getting up.

* * *

T’Pol sat on her meditation mat pondering the words she’d spoken to Captain Archer and contemplating what he’d said to her. One of the things that bugged her, as her human friends would say, was his stubbornness. Like a sehlat who had a meal in its sights, nothing would deter him from his path – not logic … and not even the gentle plea of a friend.

 

She knew it was futile to ask Hoshi to find something in Andorian law that would enable both Shran and Jonathan to “save face.” However, she would’ve been remiss for not trying, and she couldn’t let her friend down. She’d been unable to dissuade him from giving his life to destroy the Xindi weapon and thought he was dead; this time she couldn’t face the … emotions … that awaited her if he did meet his doom. And judging by the training Shran had, his skill with the blade and his need for vengeance, she was sure her friend would lose. No man, not even Archer, was that lucky.

As she stared into the half-lighted room, she heard her door chime.

“Come in,” she said, standing.

Travis was wearing an enormous smile and Hoshi seemed hesitant; it meant they found something, but it wasn’t necessarily information she would rejoice in.

Excitedly, Travis spoke up. “Ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but after helping Ho … Ensign Sato go through the information, it looks like we hit on something.”

Offering her condolences, Hoshi quickened to add something. “You’re not going to like it.”

T’Pol cocked her eyebrow. “What is it?”

Proudly, Travis handed the Vulcan his PADD which highlighted certain words as the young man said them aloud. “According to rule 1100.32, section 2, paragraph 3, ‘A combatant who has no heir is precluded from commencing in the challenge.’”

She eased her eyebrow. “The captain _does not_ have children.”

“According to paragraph 4, ‘His or her spouse will not be dishonored. The combat is nullified; compensation can be reached at a later date hereto with.”

 _Spouse._ T’Pol’s eyes fell on the ground. “Ensign Mayweather, I thought you had something.”

“Ma’am, there are no stipulations on when ‘the combatant’ is married. So, I was thinking ….”

T’Pol waited.

Hoshi shook her head. “Travis thinks one of us should marry Captain Archer. I don’t know about ….”

“Travis is right, but the captain would never agree to it.”

A little taken aback, the helmsman stammered the rest of his thoughts. “Phlox told me … he was a … minister … and I was thinking maybe ….”

An idea percolated in the Vulcan’s brain. Acting quickly, she waved to the door and suggested the two discuss the plan with the doctor in the Mess Hall.

* * *

Phlox waddled into the Mess Hall shaking his head at what he’d heard over the comm; it seemed preposterous. As soon as he stepped across the portal, he was greeted by one very eager face (Travis), one very skeptical face (Hoshi) and a stoic one (T’Pol).

 

“Doctor,” T’Pol said.

Placing a warm beverage in his hand – coffee, something he enjoyed – the Vulcan began what Phlox had heard the humans call ‘buttering him up.’

“It was good of you to come on short notice, especially since I know you’re busy. Travis indicated, among the number of degrees you hold, you have one in theology. I’m fascinated by the ….”

Atypical for the Denobulan, he wanted to get straight to the matter at hand. “You asked if I could perform a marriage ceremony between you and Captain Archer?” asked Phlox.

“Yes.”

“It’s unethical, as I’ve already stated, to marry someone without their consent.” He was about to say more when the Vulcan interrupted him.

“I’m giving my consent,” T’Pol said.

Phlox was about to continue to protest, when T’Pol explained the extreme circumstances: Archer had agreed to a fight to the death with Shran and the Andorian was a superior fighter, trained since childhood and raised with the weapon of choice. The logical conclusion to both factual statements was: Captain Archer would die. The doctor already knew these conditions, and had drawn the same conclusion himself.

“Neither man appears willing to back down,” she said.

“T’Pol,” began Phlox, trying to appeal to her logic, “it was _his_ decision to make. Besides, I don't know his religious beliefs ...”

Travis hastened to add, "Captain Archer isn't very religious."

"I'm not certain whether this would impose on his beliefs."

Hoshi shook her head. "I doubt it."

"But, we just don't know," Phlox said. "I'm sorry. I can't help you." About to turn around, he glanced at the Vulcan. Stunningly, she gazed up with large brown eyes, blinking them with vulnerability - something she hadn’t done since reading the Kir’Shara.

She made the request again. “Phlox, I’d like you to marry us.”

The Denobulan gave a small frown and then made the mistake of looking at the two humans who accompanied her. He’d heard that humans, when sad, ended up looking like a wounded puppies – their large eyes batting sadly and their mouths turned down as if scolded. Silently he mused that even Porthos didn’t look as pathetic as either Travis or Hoshi. Turning to his own instincts, something he did frequently, he knew he’d miss the captain as well; although not perfect, the man had successfully led Enterprise through many scrapes. There was something larger than life about him, as if destiny belonged to him. It was something he'd never thought in his more than one hundred years of life, he'd ever admire. Besides, it would be bad for morale to see someone so irrepressible killed.

The ethics of the situation still bothered him, but he'd sacrificed his morals for other more difficult decisions. Unlike those times, this might actually help. Jerking his head back and swaying his body, he gave in.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but ... all right. I just hope he doesn’t take this marriage as seriously as I think he might.”

Travis blew out a long breath of relief and Hoshi threw her arms around the physician as T’Pol’s body righted itself a little - the Vulcan version of pleased.

“Then, might I make a suggestion?” the Vulcan began.

* * *

Archer lay on his back staring at the ceiling. In a way, it was kind of funny – he couldn’t imagine himself dying. For some reason, things usually had a way of working out; they always had before - just seemed this time was a bit trickier. Instead of giving his life for Earth or a friend, he was hoping that somehow fate would smile on him again and prevent him from having to kill Shran, a man who was a friend, an enemy and an ally (all rolled into one), or being killed by him.

 

That, strangely, wasn’t what was keeping him up.

_It’s odd that T’Pol came to see me._

Pleading, almost with passion, she asked him not to fight. The timbre of her voice and the gentle touch of his arm – her voice and gesture showed even more concern than those she displayed the day he’d jumped into the Insectoid vessel and headed for Azati Prime to blow up the Xindi weapon. It had shocked him then; this time, it touched him. Only a few hours ago, her voice rippled with friendship and her eyes gazed up at him as if he was … important to her, not just as a captain.

_Important? it is admiration? Friendship? Love? Love!_

He winced.

_Don’t go there._

T’Pol’s divorce and Shran’s confession that he and Talas were lovers, _had been_ lovers, weaseled thoughts that had been long abandoned ... maybe too long

_Don’t go there, he reminded himself - again._

He’d avoided such notions before. But, he had a hell of a time not taking her into a hug and reassuring her everything would be okay … just like he’d wanted to do when he heard about her divorce.

_Divorce. I wonder if this means things are finally over between T’Pol and Trip. I haven’t seen them together since …._

“Commander T’Pol to Captain Archer.”

_Speak of the devil._

“Archer here. Go ahead.”

“Captain, I believe there is a tradition to wish someone luck before he goes into combat?”

He smiled. “Yeah?” His finger thoughtlessly slid along the panel, caressing it.

“Ensigns Sato and Mayweather, Dr. Phlox and I are in the Mess Hall. I believe Travis indicated he had some … booze to share to toast the occasion?”

Giving a gentle laugh he agreed. “I’ll be right there.”

This was more the reception he’d been waiting for – friends gathered together who believed in him, rallying him on to victory. It didn’t take long for him to get ready, walk confidently down the corridors and reach the nearly deserted dining facility.

Phlox smiled broadly. “Ahhh, Captain!”

Travis immediately stuck a drink in his hand. “To your future!” the young man chanted.

Archer grimaced for a moment, clinked glasses and then swallowed the alcohol. It was scotch, but it was the cheap stuff – apparently ensigns didn’t make enough or young men didn’t know enough to get the good stuff. Smiling, he pretended to enjoy the concoction. After all, the ensign was being generous and more than that, he was being a friend.

“Captain, I hope you’ll allow me to say a few words,” Phlox asked.

Archer gave a quick nod.

“Hklath’! Plhaht. Branak etal ipoph’klat manaok oklalath vandangu. Plagnar Archer plath’ak uku akatakal manaok polga T’Pol lalath skak blathal alaath. Flazal etal a'klaak. Blaphnet u uku glath. Flazal etal a'klaak vandu klagath kla'aak blanar.”

Furrowing his brow, he wondered why his and T’Pol’s name came up and reminded himself to start taking language lessons.

The Denobulan smiled and lied, “I said ‘Good luck to you Captain Archer, and I hope if T’Pol is asked to be captain is decent and fair.’”

A frown worked onto his face. “So, you think she’ll be asked to command?” he asked.

Hoshi decided to level with him. “Sir, you’re an excellent leader, but Commander Shran is part of the Imperial Guard. I’ve looked up information about him –- they advance in rank by proving their fighting prowess. To advance to the level of commander .…”

“All right, I get it, Ensign. Well,” Archer gave a slight pause. “I’ve never had any doubts in T’Pol’s ability to command. I’m sure she’ll be … decent and fair.”

The five chatted briefly, surprisingly not about the battle, sat through one more guttural toast from Phlox and then the evening broke up. Archer shuffled back to his room to try and get at least four hours rest.

* * *

It was late into the night, but if T’Pol knew Shran (and despite their species being nearly mortal enemies she thought she did), she knew he’d be awake preparing for battle. Stopping in front of his door, she rang the chime.

 

As the door slid open, two antennae stood at attention, showing the shock that he must’ve felt.

“What do _you_ want?” he asked, suspiciously.

“I wanted to offer my condolences to you. Talas was a brilliant tactician. Even I could discern that in the short time I knew her.”

“She was,” he said. As if a moment of weakness hit him, he slouched against the door, letting the Vulcan enter his room.

With grace, she filed in and watched the Andorian sulk, sinking onto his bed. “I accept your condolences. I never would’ve expected a _Vulcan_ to do so.”

Cocking her eyebrow, she wondered what to say, but gathered the blue creature was speaking rhetorically.

“Still, you’re not any Vulcan,” he said, grunting to himself. “I wouldn’t have expected one of your kind to stick around the humans. It takes a certain amount of courage, I suppose.”

She continued to remain silent, gathering his ramblings weren’t over.

“You came here for something else, didn’t you?”

Wanting to sigh, but keeping from exhaling air, she agreed. “You can’t go through with this.”

Frowning, he picked up his blade as if continuing the practice she’d interrupted. “I can and I will.” Jabbing the pick into the air, he said, “Talas requested it of me.”

“You will _kill_ Captain Archer.”

Halting his motions, he stared her in the eyes and then looked down at the ground; his antennae sagged.

“I don’t want to. I don’t have any options.”

“There are always possibilities.”

"Not this time." Catching her eye, he pointed his finger at her. “If Archer hadn’t agreed to the substitution, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

Just as T’Pol suspected, despite the run-ins, harsh words, fighting and yelling, Shran considered Archer a friend. It made what she had to say easier.

“Captain Archer does not have any heirs.”

Shran's eyes fell to the deck plating; that only saddened him more. “I suspected as much. Then I put an end to the pink skin’s line?”

“It’s not definite. He’s married.”

“Oh?” he asked. She could see recognition settle in; he was obviously figuring out that it meant Archer would be unable to fight. His eyes narrowed and he stared at her. T’Pol could also hypothesize that now the Andorian was becoming suspicious.

“To whom?”

Leveling her eyes on him, she spoke. “To me.”

The ice pick dropped from his hand, clinking onto the deck plating, and he blinked more than a few times. “To you! A _Vulcan_!”

“Yes.”

“When I told him about Talas, he didn’t mention anything about you.” Grinning, he said, “Although, he was very upset with me when I yelled at you the other day.”

She let the remark stand without comment.

“Well … I always suspected he had a soft spot for you. There’d be no other explanation to want keep a Vulcan around. And I never for a moment thought it was only loyalty that kept you on Enterprise, especially in the Expanse.”

“Then the duel tomorrow is canceled?”

Shran nodded. “Why didn’t he tell me before?”

“He is a _private_ man.”

Mulling over the information, he agreed. Shran laughed and his antennae fell back in amusement as well. “Archer mating with a Vulcan …. Fire and ice.”

She supposed that was again his rhetoric and quietly let his muse on the subject. “I’ll let the captain know the competition is resolved.”

As she scolded herself for calling him _the captain_ , which might arouse more doubt, she turned on her heel and the door slid open.

“Why didn’t Archer tell me about this yesterday to end the combat?”

“He didn’t realize this rule precluded him from fighting.”

“So, you’ve come to plea on your ... _husband’s_ behalf?”

“Yes.”

Giving one more chuckle, he gave a broad smile. “You must love him.”

“It would _only_ be logical to assume such.” Gracefully, she glided away deciding to ruminate on that idea as she heard the Andorian behind her grumble and guffaw at the same time.

* * *

According to rule 24.53, the challenge should always be performed at sunrise. Although Enterprise didn’t have the advantage of a sun rising or setting, the Andorians agreed that the beginning of the Earth day was close enough to meet the strict stipulations. Wearing his uniform, Archer walked into the gym expecting to see someone … anyone. Glancing around the room, he noticed T’Pol at his heels.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

“The duel was called off.”

“Huh?”

“Shran will still lend you support, but the matter has been settled.”

Furrowing his brow he asked, “You didn’t fight him, did you?”

She’d actually considered it, but in the end knew that wouldn’t save face for either men. Vulcans were naturally stronger than Andorians and she had been a trained military commander; taking a small Andorian would’ve been easy – especially since the male of the species weren’t as strong.

“No,” she said.

“Well, what happened?”

T’Pol carefully worded her statement. “Hoshi found a … _loophole_.”

“And that is …?”

“You have no heirs.”

“I read that. Andorian law requires that I’m married.”

“That's correct.”

“I’m not married.”

“Actually, you are.”

Furrowing his brow, he loomed over her, expecting an answer. “T’Pol?”

“Perhaps we should discuss this in our quarters.”

“Our quarters!”

TBC

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Archer paced the length of his cabin at least five times during the explanation of how his first officer became Mrs. Jonathan Archer. Permitting his steps to only falter twice - at hearing Phlox had married them without his consent and determining that Shran had believed the two to be intimate - he kept a steady breath.

After (what he assessed) as her flimsy tale came to a halt, he turned on his boot heel and wheeled around to glare at her.

“So, that’s it?”

“Yes. As I mentioned, I thought it was the best alternative.”

“Don’t you think that was _my_ decision to make?”

“As your first officer, I was doing it for the good of the crew. As your friend, I knew you’d never agree. Therefore … it was … logical for Dr. Phlox and I to do this clandestinely.”

“ _Logical?_ ” Archer’s look hardened. “Well, I hate to make you a divorcee again, but this marriage is over.”

He noticed her give a slight wince at the words “divorcee” and “again,” but ignored it. Feeling morally justified for his comments, he headed for the door until he heard her voice behind him.

“If we divorce right away, Shran will withdraw his support.”

Sucking in air through his nostrils, he headed back to her and towered over her. “What?”

“In order to meet the conditions of the challenge, we must be married for at least a week. And if you tell Shran, you would embarrass him and he would no longer provide you the ships you need to find the marauder … or Commander Tucker and Lt. Reed.”

His head fell to his chest. “A week?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Giving a slight head nod, he was about to head out the door, when he heard her whisper.

“Captain, during that week we’re required to cohabitate.”

Staring at the door, he took a deep breath and then spoke with a clipped tone. “You’re not living here.”

“You could reside with me in my quarters, but I don’t believe Porthos ….”

“We’re not living together.”

“I don’t believe we have an alternative.”

“No way.’”

“According to rule 1100.32, section 2, paragraphs 7 - 8, Shran may stop by any time he wishes. We’re asked to receive him to pay our respects and during that visit he can inspect our quarters – anywhere … doing anything he likes ….”

He could feel the blood begin to rush to his ears, cheeks and neck. The headache that developed only a few moments ago, pounded behind his eyes.

“Great. Anything else I need to know?”

“Perhaps you should read the information at your leisure. There are 20 paragraphs on this. I doubt you need to read the last five, they pertain to the consummation of marriage.” As Archer stared at her, he watched her clarify something he’d already understood. “Children.”

He guffawed. “Yeah, I think it’s a safe assumption I don’t need to read that.”

After punishing her with his glare for a few more seconds, he looked down at the ground and wiped a weary hand across his face.

She said, “I understood the risk that you would be … unhappy with these circumstances, but I thought it was the best course of action.”

“I’m sure you did, but …” he started. Before he could lay into her again, he heard a chime at the door. Giving her the evil eye for a second more, he strolled over to the door.

As it slid open, a 5’7” blue-skinned man wearing a broad smile and happy antennae greeted him.

“Here the lovebirds are now,” Shran said.

Archer rolled his eyes. “Listen, I think ….”

“I’m glad to see you’re both dressed. I figured I was taking a chance coming so early this morning,” he said.

Shifting uncomfortably in place, Archer disagreed. “I was already up; I thought the duel was going to take place this morning.”

The blue man grinned broadly at T’Pol. “Well, Captain, don’t be too hard on her, she’s only protecting her … interests. After all, she’s your wife.”

“What do you want, Shran?”

“I stopped by to give you a hard time, pink skin. You never told me about you and the Vulcan.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of people are surprised,” he said. His eyes leveled at T’Pol who suddenly found the floor interesting.

Pointing his gloved fingers, Shran said. “You owe me a drink.”

“How about at 1800. I need to communicate with Ambassador ….”

“Now.”

“What? _Now?_ It’s 0715.”

Frowning Shran insisted. “You owe me.”

“Huh?” Archer asked.

“Jonathan,” she whispered as if she’d never used his name before, “it states in paragraph 14 ….”

“Never mind,” Archer said.

“It’s all right, Archer. I’m sure she’ll be … _ready_ for you later.”

His eyebrows climbed onto his head as the Andorian smirked.

“I’ll attend to the Bridge,” she said.

Jon nodded and was about to walk out, when Shran asked a question. “Aren’t you going to kiss her goodbye?”

The captain stared at her for a second, happy she had an answer.

“I don’t care for public displays of affection,” T’Pol said.

“Figures,” Shran said with disappointed.

“T’Pol, we’ll talk about that issue I wanted to discuss later,” Archer said.

The Vulcan’s eyebrows climbed on her head and she gave a slight nod as the two men filed out and headed toward the Mess Hall.

* * *

As soon as they left the confines of his cabin, Archer was slapped on the back as the Andorian gave a loud chuckle.

“I have to admit, pink skin, marrying a Vulcan is inviting trouble. Sure, their women are beautiful, but … no emotion. I like a woman with fire in the bedroom.”

_This was going to be a longer day than Archer originally thought._

“I assumed you too would be a man who wanted a passionate woman – someone who could keep up with your desires. Like maybe an Orion,” he said.

Archer’s grimace fired a warning to end that line of discussion, but the obviously pleased-with-himself man walking next to him dismissed it.

“Orion women,” he mused. “Have you seen one?”

“Yes.”

“Beautiful. Dangerous. They show desire … a lot of it.” A creepy blue smile crawled onto his face and he stared into space for a moment. “Of course, maybe your first officer she shows _you_ desire?”

“Shran,” he said threateningly.

Curious antennae piqued with interested. “Yes?”

“Drop it.”

As they entered the Mess Hall, Shran immediately went to the stash of Andorian ale. It was obvious he knew where it was kept, almost as if it was his ship. After pouring two drinks and continuing to grin, he stuck out his glass.

“To women.”

Archer nodded and threw a small sip down his throat, recoiling at the taste.

“How did you two get together?” Shran asked.

He was afraid this line of questioning would come up. “I suppose … logically.”

The antennae fell. “Oh.” An then the two bulbs on his head perked up. “I was thinking perhaps she came to you in the throes of Pon Farr.”

The captain furrowed his brow, trying not to look as confused as he felt. Suddenly a snippet of an image came to him, almost out of reach. _Definitely not._

“No.”

“But, she came to you?” Shran asked.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm,” Shran said. He was undoubtedly trying to picture exactly what transpired and hung on any information.

Archer avoided his gaze and continued to keep his eyes on his drink.

Silence rang out as Shran frowned. “Pink skin, you’re as closed-lipped as a Andorian ferlahn. What happened?”

“It’s boring,” he said.

“Captain, paragraph ….”

Rolling his eyes, Jon sunk into his seat a little and threw the rest of the ale down his throat, hoping to come up with a good enough story to fool the Andorian.

“After you told me about Talas, I figured time is so short, that I decided to approach T’Pol about my feelings for her.”

Squinting his eyes with suspicion, the Andorian said, “I thought she came to you.”

Archer shrugged. “Well, I asked her to join me alone for dinner to let her know. Before I could utter the words, she told me about her divorce to her previous husband.”

“Married before?”

“Yes, she said she’d cared about me for sometime and asked to resolve the marriage because of her feelings for me. I told her I felt the same way.”

Shran gave a smug grin as his antennae wandered back, slyly. “I suspected something happened between you two when you were on Vulcan. The desert gets lonely and you were there together.”

The captain was about to object, when the Andorian said a few more words.

“Besides, you haven’t been quite the same since your visit to that planet.”

Archer leaned back in his chair. “You’re right, I haven’t.”

The commander leaned over and poured another drink for each. “So, what’s she like as a mate?”

Keeping his eyes keenly focused on the table, he responded. “Sensual.”

A burst of laughter filled the cabin and the two continued to drink.

* * *

T’Pol stepped onto the Bridge and glanced over at Travis and then Hoshi. Preventing a sigh from leaving her lips, she wandered over to the captain’s chair.

“How’s Captain Archer?” Travis asked. He’d always had discretion and this question could be taken almost any way without the crew becoming any wiser.

“Fine. He’s with Commander Shran. Ensign Sato, may I see you in the Ready Room?”

Travis ducked his head back toward his station as Hoshi climbed out from behind the console and followed the Vulcan. As the door slid shut, T’Pol leaned against the desk – imitating something the captain might’ve done.

“Ensign, I’d like you to change the personnel information. Update Captain Archer and my personnel records with our marriage. And can you corrupt the data as it pertains to the date?”

“Tamper with your personnel records?” Hoshi asked, clarifying.

“That’s correct.” The Vulcan knew this was a serious offense; a communications office changing personnel records could be court-martialed, even if it was at the request of a superior officer. Although, she doubted Starfleet, given the extreme circumstances, would hold her to that.

Hoshi shifted from foot to foot.

"I understand the nature of the order I ask. I can't require you do so."

“I can garble the date.” Hoshi gave a hesitant nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you. You’ll be able to restore it at a later point in time. But for now, we need Commander Shran, the rest of the Andorians and the Tellarites to believe I’m married to the captain.”

“Permission to speak freely?” Hoshi asked.

“Of course,” T’Pol said. The two ladies sat down – the Vulcan behind the desk and Hoshi in the seat in front.

“The Andorians are going to be looking for hints that you two aren’t married; they’re distrustful by nature.”

T’Pol gave a light nod. “Agreed.”

“I’d suggest you call him by his first name, even on duty and think about showing small … signs of affection.”

An eyebrow was the only response she could give.

“You know, maybe touching his arm, holding hands … a kiss now and then?” Hoshi said.

“Perhaps I should study various human social customs.”

The ensign nodded. “I know Vulcans aren’t as expressive, but it might be wise to show the Andorians you’re meeting the captain half-way. It makes your marriage more believable.”

“Vulcans aren’t prone to displays of public affection, but … you have a point. I’ll consider my actions and make them more of a … spouse. I just hope the captain ….”

Hoshi’s eyes narrowed, giving a slight cough.

“ _Jonathan_ ,” T’Pol corrected, “won’t be too embarrassed.”

“How did he take the news you’ll be moving in with him?” Hoshi asked.

The Vulcan met her eyes. “Not well.”

* * *

Returning to the Bridge only a little less sober than he should’ve been, Archer glanced around the deck. Strangely enough, or not strange at all, Hoshi and Travis seemed to have their heads buried in their work. It was all the same to him; he needed to speak with T’Pol as soon as possible to get their stories straight as well as, and more importantly, discuss how to get the entire allied Earth, Vulcan, Andorian and Tellarite forces to work succinctly together.

“T’Pol, would you come with me to my Ready Room?” he asked.

“Yes, Jonathan,” she said, trailing behind.

With mild surprise, he heaved an imperceptible sigh and crossed the Bridge. As the door slid shut to his office behind them, the two stared at each other. Archer decided to go first.

“Jonathan?” he asked.

“Ensign Sato believes it may help with the ruse if I call you by your first name.”

The captain’s face fell. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning, but … I hope you can understand my concern.”

She tilted her head in response. “I can … understand your discomfort with the situation.”

He leaned against his desk and offered a hand out; it always meant he wanted her to sit down. This time, he noted with pride, she decided to take him up on the offer.

“Shran asked how we met,” he said.

“I thought that might come up. Did you avoid the answer?”

“No, I said … well …. I said that I invited you to dinner the other night to tell you how I felt about you, but that you beat me to the punch.”

At her confusion, he decided to explain. “You said you had feelings for me first.”

“I did?”

“Well, that’s what I told Shran.”

“It would’ve been easier to indicate I was in the throes of Pon Farr. He would’ve believed that.”

Archer didn’t really want to go down this path, but he hesitantly disagreed. “If you were in the throes, wouldn’t you still be?”

The two stared at each other, and Archer noticed the recognition in T’Pol’s eyes that he knew a little more that she thought he did. Her eyes fell to the floor.

“A Vulcan would be unlikely to admit to these feelings first. I would think a human might.”

“Why do you say that?” His mind wandered to Trip, wondering if she had first-hand experience.

Instead of answering right away, she sat a little straighter and then took a small breath.

When she spoke, it was deliberate. “Humans are more emotional. A Vulcan’s feelings are highly private, personal things.”

“But, you’d share that information if an emotional human admitted his feelings first?”

The Vulcan gave a slight nod and looked him in the eye. “If I felt the same way.”

Archer sighed. “Well, it’s already out there. It’s too late to take it back.” Pausing he glanced at her with a playful smile. “So, you were in love with me and admitted it first.”

The left side of her lower lip took the slightest downward fall. “Very well.”

“What was it, T’Pol- my charm or good looks that eventually made you give in?”

“Do I have other options?”

He chuckled and leaned over. “You know, Shran commented that we must’ve been lonely in the desert and said somehow I’d changed.”

Seriously, she contemplated that. “We both have.”

Snorting lightly, he agreed. “How about this: maybe you fell in love with me when we were captured by the Syrannites.”

“Most likely before then.”

“Oh?”

‘Yes, it would take a Vulcan much longer to … admit to an attraction or deeper feelings.”

“Okay ….”

“Perhaps when you assisted me with Menos?”

“All right.” He smiled. “But, then why did you marry Koss?”

“I never thought anything would become of us, and I wanted to protect my mother.”

He nodded. Sshe'd explained the circumstances of why she'd married Koss before. _Sounds good._

T’Pol hastened to add, “And you? When did you realize you had feelings for me?”

He thought about it for a second. So, she prompted him. “When I was diagnosed with Pan’nar syndrome?”

“Nah, too long ago.”

An eyebrow poked up against her bangs. “Actually, I _was_ going to suggest you became interested in me when we were kidnapped … the time Shran helped to rescue us.”

He shook his head.

“You _did_ comment that you didn’t want the Vulcans to take something that was meaningful to you … like they had your father?”

“I don’t remember saying that.” Archer frowned. “Okay, I realized my feelings for you when you were diagnosed with Pan’nar. But, I’ve just kept them hidden?”

“Seems appropriate. After all, I’m certain you would be concerned about the command structure and the impropriety of having feelings for your first officer.”

“Sounds … reasonable,” he said. “If you felt something since I helped you with Menos, why haven’t _you_ said anything?”

“As I indicated, I am Vulcan. I would be wary of sharing my feelings.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap.

Suddenly, Archer’s face perked up, as if alighted with an idea – thanks to his remnant memories from Surak. “What if, just hear me out, what if you touched my hand and was able to tell how I felt. By that touch, you decided to let me know you felt the same way?”

T’Pol considered the suggestion. “Sounds acceptable.”

“But, why did we marry so quickly?” he asked.

“Vulcans have monogamous relationships. By admitting my feelings, I would want something deeper with you.”

He smiled. “I’m impatient so ….”

“Yes, you are.”

His face fell. “Well, I was going to say, I doubt it would be a stretch we married quickly.”

"Especially since we’ve known each other for four years, which to humans seems like a long time.”

His smile broadened and bloomed into a grin. “We’ve been through a lot in those four years. I could see why I’d want a speedy wedding.”

Something in her eyes smiled back at him.

“So, I think everything is settled?”

The Vulcan tightened her lips and blinked a few times. It meant she was nervous.

He prompted her. “Something else?”

“Our cohabitation.”

Whatever mirth fell away. “Maybe we can figure out another solution.”

“Captain, believe me, I am just as … if not more … eager to have my privacy. However, it would be unwise to live separately. Although our rooms are close, they are down the hall. If Shran dropped by late at night, he would wonder where I was.”

“I could say you were on the Bridge?” he asked.

“He has access to the some of the ship’s logs, as do most visitors.”

“We could lock out that information.”

“I assume he would become suspicious.”

Archer’s gaze fell to the floor. _She’s right._ “So, when do you move in?”

“I can later today, if that’s acceptable?”

“Fine.” Blowing out a short breath, he leaned over. “Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to find that marauder.”

TBC

 


	3. Chapter 3

As Trip wandered out of Decon with Reed, he was instructed by Dr. Phlox to meet him in Sickbay. The Southerner had higher than usual radiation levels, thanks to what he’d heard the captain mention were some sneaky Romulans, and for once the blonde engineer couldn’t argue with being asked to slow down. Although joking with Malcolm, he’d teetered a few times as he’d stripped off the piles of EV suit layers to get down to the bare essentials. Truth was, he felt tired, achy and sweaty – all symptoms of radiation poisoning.

Staring up at a white ceiling, Trip tolerated the scanner held at temple-level.

“You done, Doc?”

“Just about,” he said.

Trip heaved a short sigh as the doctor “hmmm”ed a few times before finally revealing the results. Snapping the scanner to his over-abundant side, Phlox’s eyes extinguished the jollity that usually twinkled in them.

“You have extremely high levels of radiation. Any longer, and you may not be here.”

Trip shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

The doctor shook his head. “Commander, I’d like you to give up your normal duties and relax a bit. I think two days should be sufficient.”

Trip propped up on his elbows quick to dismiss the man, when the doctor added a few more words, wagging his fingers. “You could’ve died.”

Somehow the words fell on deaf ears. These days he was always close to dying – hell, everyone was: mutant silicon viruses, super-humans ready to kick some ass, interstellar war between the Vulcans and Andorians … being on Enterprise constantly put them at jeopardy. It was a miracle very few had perished yet, especially in the Expanse.

Seeing the doctor’s face all tensed up, he decided to acquiesce. “I guess I could’ve.”

He sat up slowly and began putting his clothes back on while making small talk. “So, anything happen while I was gone?”

Phlox tapped his chin a few times and then beamed. “Well, Talas died ….”

“Talas? Geez. That’s too bad.”

“Commander Shran was quite upset. Apparently, the two were … mated.”

It’s funny, he’d heard about that, but somehow still figured the woman had the hots for his buddy Malcolm.

“Anything else?” he asked. Zipping up his uniform he expected to head out, when he heard a litany of other surprising news.

“Shran challenged the Tellarite who killed her to a duel – a fight to the death, the captain offered to fight in his place and to prevent the captain from meeting his doom, T’Pol married Captain Archer.”

As the words about T’Pol fell from the Denobulan’s lips, Tucker nearly caught his finger in his own zipper.

“Wait a minute. Could you run that by me again?” he asked.

“I said Shran challenged the Tellarite who killed Talas to a ….”

“Can we just skip to the last part?”

Phlox looked off into the corner remembering what he said. “Oh, yes! T’Pol married Captain Archer.”

The commander’s face fell. “I don’t understand.”

“According to Andorian ritual, the only way that the captain could’ve avoided a fight was to have no heirs and become married. Commander T’Pol satisfied that condition.”

“I thought she just got divorced.”

Phlox’s eyebrow bunched together. “She felt it was the only way for both men to survive.”

Tucker stared at his own feet for a second. _So, she was doing it to help the cap’n. Well, I can understand that. Hell, I’d marry the cap’n if I thought it would help._

“I think I get the picture.” Glancing up into the physician’s eerie blue eyes, the engineer asked a question. “So, where is she now?”

“In Captain Archer’s quarters.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Come again?”

“They’re required by Andorian law to live together for week.”

Trip stared at the doctor, sporting an enormous frown. “Thanks, Doc.”

He barely heard the Denobulan’s cheery voice as he stepped into the hall, intent on getting to the bottom of things. He assumed now that the Vulcan was free … _was_ … maybe they could start where they left off last year before T’Pol had broken the news that everything, the sex particularly, had been one large experiment.

Before her marriage to Koss, he’d assumed they’d eventually work everything out as long as they kept talking it out. Instead of reeling her in, it seemed to push her away. And somehow, he doubted it was wishful thinking, the Vulcan seemed intent on conveying that her marriage to Koss was meaningless – no honeymoon, no deep commitment … nothing.

Somehow after four days in the Vulcan desert, she came back – changed. He couldn’t understand it. The things she enjoyed doing seemed to grind to a halt: talking about movie night, asking him about emotion and performing neuropressure. It didn’t add up.

_Yeah, I better get to the bottom of things._

* * *

While unpacking the last of her belongings, T’Pol accidentally opened the captain’s … Jonathan’s … underwear drawer. Embarrassed, but too curious not to look – especially while his attention was drawn elsewhere – she noticed he wore briefs, not boxers, of multiple colors: those in black, blue and gray were easily visible. Folded into a row and tucked neatly beside were numerous pairs of blue socks (and all blue) – too many to be a coincidence. Shutting the drawer cautiously, she glanced back at him. A smile lit in her eyes.

As the drawer closed, she felt his attention back on her.

“Did you have enough drawer space?” he asked.

Watching him shift from one foot to another, she hypothesized he was nervous.

“Yes,” she said. Staring back at the drawer, she opened the one she was assigned and placed her things there.

“Good, I’ll take the floor, you can have the bed.”

T’Pol gazed over at the bed. “Your bed is large enough for two people.”

A frown spread over his lips. “T’Pol, we’re not sleeping together.”

_Humans had such a provincial idea of sharing quarters._ “Captain, there was less space between us when we shared a blanket on P’Jem.”

The man’s eyes narrowed and his chin jutted out, as if to flash his cleft. It usually meant he disagreed with her.

“Your floor is uncomfortable and the negotiations we have tomorrow are important. You need your rest. If you feel uncomfortable with a friend at your side, I suppose I can take the floor.”

She watched him shift again and his eyes wander over to the floor. “Uncomfortable? No. I guess I can take the floor.”

_He is most certainly uncomfortable. Discomfort or not, it’s in both of our best interest._

Hastening to bring it up, she mentioned what she was mostly concerned about. “There is also the possibility that Shran may wander in on us tonight.”

“Wander in?”

“He has the access codes to enter your quarters. In paragraph ….”

“I read it!” he said, snapping.

The furrow on his head turned into a chasm between his eyes. A hand swept in front of his body and his eyes roared with anger.

“We can find out some reason to explain to him …,” he said.

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“Am I?”

“The situation dictates that the two of us stay here. We’ve been friends for many years and feel comfortable in each other’s presence, correct?”

“Well, yeah, but ….”

“We know we both need our rest and that Shran could enter the room at any moment. Therefore, you and I should sleep in the same bed.”

“T’Pol ….”

“Yes?”

Pivoting on his heel, he stared out the window at the stars zooming past.

“What are you uncomfortable with, Jonathan?”

Whipping his head to look at her, he said, “That. You calling me by my first name, you putting your things in my drawers … it just doesn’t feel appropriate.”

“Why?”

The man shook his head and without further explanation entered the bathroom.

_It was difficult to understand him._ Ignoring the need to analyze his statements and emotions, she rolled out her mat and fell into a brief meditation. She barely noticed his presence as he gathered a few things from his drawer and headed back to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he emerged in what she assumed must be his sleep attire – baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“You’ve prepared for bed?”

“Yeah.” Hesitantly padding his feet against the deck plating, he picked up a book and headed to his bed. “Which side?”

“Pardon me?” she asked.

“Which side do you want to sleep on?”

“How do you normally sleep? Do you have a … side?”

“I guess I’m kinda strewn all over the place. I’ll sleep closer to the window. How’s that?”

“Very well.”

As she gathered her silky blue pajamas, she heard the captain’s voice break from across the room.

“You gonna wear that?”

“Of course. This is what I wear to bed every night.”

He sighed. “Are you sure you should?”

“I haven’t asked you to stray from your routine.”

Grinning, as if he had the upper hand, he corrected her. “This isn’t what I wear to bed every night.”

Refraining from knitting her eyebrows together in confusion, she set for the bathroom to change. Glancing around the small room, she looked for her toiletries spread amongst his shaving gel, razor – the old-fashioned kind, tweezers (she decided she didn’t want to know what for), toenail clippers, toothpaste and … face cream? Collecting the treasure in her hands she examined it; the product promised silky skin, shaving less often and the disappearance of razor burn. The slogan summed it up: _Your face can finally be close to the woman you love._

_Hmmmm._

Slipping into her pjs, she squeezed her own cream into her palm. Because it was Vulcan, it didn’t have a fancy label or slogan, unnecessary chemical products or a particular fragrance. Just the way she preferred it. Spreading it over her arms, elbows (which became dry too easily), legs and feet, she mused whether his skin was also dry. After brushing her teeth, washing her face and combing her hair, she put her items away and sauntered out of the bathroom.

Instead of finding Jonathan fast asleep, he seemed engrossed in his book. Noticing his double take, she approached the bed.

“T’Pol,” he said softly.

“Jonathan, in less than seven days, this experience will be over.”

“Right.”

He helped her re-arrange her pillow and she slid under the covers. As soon as her foot settled against the sheets, it brushed up against his hairy toes. Immediately he scooted his foot out of the way, avoiding her touch.

“Sorry,” he said.

It felt unsettling to her as well. “Ensign Sato indicated we should get used to touching each other.”

Settling against his pillow and putting down his book, he said a few words. “You’ve touched me before.”

“I have. Not with any intentions of more than friendship.”

The man nodded and propped himself up on one elbow, gazing into her eyes. A question hung there, one she decided to answer.

“In order to … fool Shran we should _seem_ married.”

With a voice that made her toes curl, he spoke. “What would you suggest?”

-Buzz-

Instead of hopping away, she noticed he held her stare as the pulse at the base of his neck beat a little more rapidly.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

Saving him the embarrassment of climbing over her, she volunteered. “I will get the door.”

Leaving the warmth of his bed, she sashayed over to door and opened it.

“Trip?”

“T’Pol?” Trip asked. He dipped to his side and saw past her toward the captain, who was in bed.

The Vulcan glanced behind her as Jonathan’s head hit the pillow and he gave the smallest of sighs before recovering.

“It’s not what you think,” Jon said.

The engineer’s eyes followed her form from her hair to her toes, measuring every inch of her pajamas and bare skin.

“Oh really?” Trip asked.

TBC

 


	4. Chapter 4

Archer waved Trip into his room and noticed how hesitant his engineer was to enter, which made him get out of bed and wave more empathically.

“Trip, let us explain.”

“I … I don’t think I need any explanation,” Trip said.

Rather than touch the engineer, T’Pol let a frown almost spread over her face. The captain wondered why she didn’t reach out to him, especially since at one point they were an _item_.

His engineer and science officer stared at each other for a moment, which made him feel even more uncomfortable than before. Glancing over at the bathroom, he thought maybe he’d give them some privacy.

_Privacy? This is my room._

With more confidence he walked to the door. When he did, he could interpret Trip’s emotions easily: the guy looked like his heart ripped was ripped out of his body and shoved down his neck.

“Are you going to come in? Because we sure as hell can’t all stand in our night clothes in the hall,” Archer said.

Trip’s feet eventually shuffled in and the door slid closed behind him. Warily, he turned his eyes to T’Pol and then to the captain.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Trip said, staring at his feet.

Archer sighed. “Trip, T’Pol married me because of a challenge ….”

Trip cut him off. “I know. Phlox told me.”

“Well, then you know we’re not married because we’re in love.”

The Vulcan shot her eyes toward him and then slowly looked back at Trip. “Why did you come here, Commander?”

“I just … I guess I couldn’t believe it.” Trip’s eyes still focused on the floor. “I mean you two ….”

“We’re living together because we have to,” Archer said.

“In the same bed?” asked the engineer, weakly.

T’Pol crossed her arms. “Jonathan and I are friends ….”

“Jonathan?” Trip asked, finally daring to lift his head.

“She’s using my first name to fool the Andorians.”

“I may call him Jonathan if I wish.” Her arms intertwined just a little more and her head tilted slightly to one side. It meant she was feeling defensive.

Reassessing the situation, the captain wondered if they _had_ been an item, but now were dealing with the discomfiture of having an ended relationship. Whatever it was, it was confusing and charging the atmosphere like right before a lightning storm; it was prickling his skin and causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

Breaking the silence, Archer gripped his engineer’s shoulder. “Phlox said you’re supposed to be in your quarters resting.”

The Southerner nodded glumly.

“Trip, _nothing_ is happening between us.” As Trip’s sad blue eyes found his, he reiterated the concept. “ _Nothing_.”

T’Pol raised her eyebrow without confirming or denying.

“In a week, this will all be over and … everything will go back to normal,” Archer said. “T’Pol and I will get divorced and live separately again.”

Perking up just a little, Trip gave a smirk. “Well, I guess what you two do is your own business.”

Archer was glad the information was finally sinking in. And before T’Pol could answer, he decided to respond.

“Don’t let this bother you.”

“I guess you’re right.”

The captain nodded. “Go get some rest. We have an early meeting tomorrow.”

Trip was about to saunter out, when he turned around. “T’Pol, maybe we can have lunch together. While on the marauder ship … I had time to think about a few things. Some things we might wanna discuss.”

“I don’t know whether that’s wise. Commander Shran may grow suspicious.”

“I don’t see any problem with lunch between friends,” Archer said, smiling.

An eyebrow poked up against her forehead after she delivered a somewhat steely gaze at the captain. Her eyes then met Trip’s.

“Very well. 1200 tomorrow in the Mess Hall?” she asked.

Trip grinned. “You bet.”

With that, the engineer marched back into the hall and the door slid behind him. After watching the door for a few seconds, the captain’s head ducked into his hand. Without asking questions about the relationship status of his two most senior officers, deciding if they weren’t in this predicament he wouldn’t have known anything going on, he walked over to the bed.

_Wouldn’t have known? Well, almost_. _Anyway, best to ignore it._ Challenging himself, he chanted in his mind a mantra: _Don’t go there._

As if to address that issue, she turned to him. “I’m sure you wish to know ….”

“Not really.”

Giving the tiniest of sighs, her lips flattened. “I think it’s best that I explain ….”

Crawling under the sheets, he reaffirmed his thoughts. “T’Pol, I don’t need to know.”

As she opened her mouth again, he spoke once more. “I don’t want to know. Just whatever it is, I hope you two can work it out.”

Sliding along side him, he could tell she wanted to talk about it. He just wanted to catch a few Z’s before tomorrow. To prove the discussion was over, he turned off the light nearest him, rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

It all seemed … suspicious. Although he didn’t know Archer’s Vulcan that well, he knew the race well enough to know that they would _never_ admit to feelings unless they were caught up in their mating cycle.

Feelings, emotions – they were things those pointy-eared logicians despised.

If anyone else had told him that, he would’ve called them a liar to their face, but the pink skin usually told the truth … not that Shran felt any better about the information.

Checking the personnel records, the data confirmed their story. They were married the same day he told the captain about Talas, which seemed odd. Everyone had been so busy, there didn’t seem time to do anything personal. In fact, he’d been with Archer almost that entire day … and the Vulcan had always been in tow.

Getting up early to see the situation for himself, he took a shower, combed his hair, brushed his teeth and cleaned out his antennae.

_At 0400, neither should be awake. Not even Vulcans typically get up this early._

Sneaking down the empty corridors, he stopped in front of Archer’s room. As his finger poised over the numbers, which he’d memorized, he paused.

The pink skin and I have been through a lot of scrapes together. I hope I don’t find out he’s lied to me. I’d hate to kill him.

With only a small amount of trepidation for what he might find, he entered the numbers. The room was dark, but his eyes could see easily into it – thanks to thousands of years of evolution of an underground people. What he saw only moderately surprised him. Curled onto her side, T’Pol faced the door. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was slow and smooth. A hairy hand snaked around her waist and grabbed lazily at her belly, which was exposed.

Creeping closer, he could see Archer’s chin nestled against her head and heard a light snore sucked through his nostrils. Even a cynical man like Shran had to smile. The only thing that disappointed him was that the two were wearing nightclothes.

As the Andorian was about to head back to his room, he heard a voice from across the room.

“Find what you were looking for?” she asked.

Vulcan hearing.

“For now,” he said.

At the commotion, the captain stirred. As he became conscious he retrieved his arm awkwardly from T’Pol and sat up.

“What are you doing here?” Archer asked.

“It’s my right to check on you.”

“It is _your right_ ,” T’Pol said.

Shran pulled up a chair, eying both of them. “You have to admit, it seemed like a coincidence that you two were married so close to the challenge … and that I only found out _after_ Archer had accepted to fight me.”

The pink skin agreed. “Yes, I can admit it must’ve looked a bit odd.”

T’Pol sat up with the captain and suddenly put her fingers against his face in affection, which only received a small reaction from him that looked a little like shock.

“But, as you can see, we have deep feelings for each other.”

Shran’s eyebrows knitted together and then a smile worked onto his face. “How deep?”

Acting as if dared, the Vulcan raised her eyebrows only by centimeters and then quickly turned to press her lips against Archer’s. After a few seconds of touching mouths, he backed away about to speak, when she kissed him again. Suddenly their bodies pressed into each other’s with a little more passion and for a moment Shran wondered if they’d forgotten he was watching. Finally, when they split apart, Archer panted a little as he caught his breath the second time and his fingers caressed her cheek … stroking it gently.

“Hmmm,” the Andorian said. “You’re right, Archer, she is … sensual.”

He noticed T’Pol’s hand lightly touched the captain’s cheek at the news.

Getting out of the chair, he headed to the door and looked back. The two were staring into each other’s eyes, both a little caught up in the moment.

_Lovebirds, thought the Andorian wistfully._ It made him miss Talas even more.

* * *

_Sensual? It’s perhaps better that I do not ask. Undoubtedly Jonathan … the captain … used it as part of the ruse to trick Shran._

As the door shut behind the Andorian, she could tell Archer had a million questions; he usually did. Trying to anticipate them all, she spoke while taking her hand back slowly to her side. Almost with disappointment, she noticed his hand fell away as well.

“Shran would never have believed the story if I hadn’t … entered your personal space.”

Instead of introducing another question, he seemingly grew more confused. “It seemed like ….”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

“Jonathan?”

For a second, she stared into his eyes and for a second more he stared into hers.

“Never mind.”

Kissing him had been strangely alluring in a way she hadn’t at all expected, especially when she’d felt him not only submit, but actively participate in the ruse. As they’d parted and he’d touched her cheek, for a moment she thought she could sense his thoughts.

The words that had bubbled to the surface didn’t necessarily make sense. Simultaneously, she’d heard two thoughts: “Yes” and “No.”

Settling back into the moment, she asked a question she didn’t quite understand. “Are you all right?”

Taking a long breath and staring down at the bed, he nodded. A chuckle left his mouth. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why are you laughing?” she asked.

The question brought an end to the deep rumble that left his throat. Leveling his eyes at her, he shrugged. “You have to admit, it’s a bit … well … awkward. Kissing my first officer who’s in my bed for a stranger.”

She raised her brow. The thought about baiting him that she wasn’t just his first officer, but his wife, crossed her mind. Refraining from making the statement, she let his remark stand.

After letting some of the merriment die away, he turned back toward her. “You okay?”

“Of course.” After brushing a few locks from her face, she spoke quietly. “I presume that has appeased Commander Shran.”

“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully.

“At least for now.”

“Right. At least for now.”

The two stared at each other a little longer, until Archer finally said a few words. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“We should.”

“We have an early morning meeting tomorrow … today.”

“Yes, we do.”

The two gazed at each other for a few seconds more.

“Do you think Shran will come back … because maybe I can take the floor …?”

“He may come back. I’ve discerned over the years that Commander Shran is … unpredictable.”

“Yeah. That’s true.”

“We should settle back into bed and sleep.”

Blinking slowly, he opened his mouth as if to say something. She backed off only slightly, waiting for him to finally speak.

Finally, she decided he needed encouragement. “Yes?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

With that, he rolled over and shut off the light. She settled against her pillow and looked at the ceiling, expecting to hear his light snore begin. Instead, she heard silence and in the darkness wondered if he was still awake. For some reason, something was telling her not to confirm that theory, but to pretend she also was asleep.

_Perhaps I’ll ensure Chef asks his staff to bring more coffee to the meeting._

 


	5. Chapter 5

Archer poured the coffee down his throat, thankful there was some to drink at all. After Shran’s visit, he’d stayed awake worrying … well about too many things … to fall into slumber.

His mind had churned on how soft T’Pol’s lips were, how her tongue had barely touched his during their all-too-brief kiss, how having her tongue touch his wanted to make him push her against her pillow, Trip and T’Pol’s relationship, and the predicament that kept her in his bed.

_She gave me an open-mouth kiss and caressed my tongue with hers. She’s obviously learned a few things._

_From Trip._

He shook his head.

_I’m a fool._

When their kiss had ended and after Shran had left the room, he should’ve dragged his ass over to the floor and slept there. Alone! Instead, he’d let her soft Vulcan voice coax him into lying next to her until 0700. The excuse – staying in bed – felt weaker than the coffee he was drinking, but he didn’t want to leave her side … even in the quiet and the dark.

_When the alarm rang, he was already mentally awake and shut it off quickly. Assuming she was asleep, he stared at her a few minutes, wondering … thinking about how she’d kissed him._

_“What am I going to do?” he asked, quietly._

_Instead of touching her hair or pressing his lips to her forehead, he let himself stare just a few seconds longer before getting up._

_Back to reality._

As Phlox described the creature piloting the marauder ship matched the Andorian genome most closely, Archer flung his eyes to Shran. The Andorian’s antennae squirmed and he looked too shocked to deny it.

“Shran?” Archer asked.

“Captain, I’d like to speak to you in your office.”

Archer gathered he meant “Ready Room” and filed over there with the Andorian, glancing only briefly at T’Pol and then slowly at Commander Tucker.

When they reached the Ready Room, Shran leaned against a beam and explained the situation: who the Aenar were, how much the Andorians didn’t know about them and how really their only alternative was to speak with them.

The captain had to agree. Crossing the room, he gave the order to get to Aenar as quickly as possible – maximum warp. As his fingers depressed the button, Shran wandered behind him.

“I apologize for not believing you.”

Archer raised both eyebrows and stared at him. “It’s okay.”

Shran shook his head and sat wearily down in the chair at the other end of Archer’s desk.

“No, it isn’t. I won’t come into your room again.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re finally convinced.”

The Andorian shook his head. “I have to admit. I’m jealous. Talas and I shared quarters for so long. Watching you flush against her, your hand bringing her closer to you – that, I suppose is, what I miss most. The small things. The smell of her hair and the sound of her sleeping.”

Archer frowned.

“You’re a lucky man. And to have a Vulcan return those feelings … well, I would’ve thought it impossible.”

The captain remained quiet.

“Did I say something to upset you?” Shran asked.

“No.” With a feigned smile, he added, “Just thinking.”

“There’s something bothering you, pink skin. I can tell. You know, if we had a little Andorian ale, I’m sure we could get to the bottom of your troubles.”

He disagreed. “I don’t think we should. We’ll need to stay sharp for the planet. It gets 60 below, right?”

“It can.” As Shran got up, he admitted something. “I think I know what concerns you. I watched the way Commander Tucker was looking at your wife.”

Archer’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t ….”

“It would bother me, too.” The Andorian held onto the beams as he paced slowly, unbalanced, around the room. “Grenak, my number six in command, had a thing for Talas. When Talas chose to mate with me … well, let’s just say there were problems.”

“Listen, I don’t ….”

“I could’ve stood back and done nothing, but that would only cause dissention. No, instead I chose to act.”

Almost afraid to ask, he heard himself mumble. “Whadd’ya do?”

“I liked Grenak – young, impetuous … a lot like your Commander Tucker.”

Archer smiled.

“So, I put an end to it.”

Archer’s face fell. “What?”

“Grenak was kicked out of the military.”

“I wouldn’t think that showing love would be against the regulations of the Imperial Guard – I mean, you and Talas got together. Couldn’t you have tolerated Grenak’s feelings for Talas?”

“Talas didn’t return them.”

“Even still ….”

“The Imperial Guard doesn’t tolerate love in the lower ranks. No, it was for the best.”

“You didn’t even give him a chance, huh?”

“ _Her._ It was for the best. Her droopy antennae were a distraction; she didn’t serve well after that.”

A lop-sided frown sparked on Jon’s face. “Oh.”

“I’m not saying you should do the same with Tucker. Your Vulcan doesn’t seem to return his feelings.”

“What makes you say that?”

The blue man smiled and showed a tinge of azure on his teeth. “She’s only got eyes for you, pink skin.”

_If Shran only knew_.

“Not the best taste in the world, but I guess you two have been through as many scrapes as we have, huh, Captain?”

A snort left his nose and he corrected the man. “More.”

“You see,” Shran said.

“Didn’t you say you were going back to your room to rest?”

His antennae curled back and he nodded. “Of course. I guess our conversation about your wife is done … for now.”

Archer scowled as the two filed out of the Ready Room.

_Maybe I will ask her about Trip._

* * *

Trip waited around the Mess Hall hoping to meet up with Commander T’Pol. The place was packed – noon seemed to be everyone’s favorite mealtime. As he was thinking she wouldn’t show up, he spied a smallish creature packed into a purple jumpsuit and waved. With one nod, she met him at his table.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t show,” he confessed. Getting up and offering her a seat, she folded herself neatly into one of the chairs as he sat down.

“I told you I would meet you,” she said.

He decided not to mention their tiff in the morning about the telepressence. It seemed these days really all they did was argue; he thought it meant they still cared for each other, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

After watching her settle in and sip her tea, he decided to reassert the words he’d already spoken to her in Sickbay.

“I’m just gonna come out and say this. I’d like to continue to give us a chance. I think there’s an us worth pursuing and I’m kinda betting that you do, too.”

She opened her mouth, but he was determined to keep going. “Now, I know you’re going through a few things and need some time sorting stuff out. I know I’m not exactly up on Vulcan traditions, but you and I make some sort of crazy sense.” Wanting to hold her hand, but not risking it in the overcrowded Mess Hall, he simply placed his fingers close to hers without allowing them to touch.

“I think we could really work out. At least, based on the way I feel, I think we can.”

T’Pol’s lips flattened. “Trip, I’ve never given you any indication that there was anything more between us. It’s important we re-establish our friendship and our working relationship.”

“Are you saying that after we do that, maybe we have a chance?”

Her eyes fell to her mug, which he took to mean either she wasn’t sure or didn’t want to say. After almost a full minute of silence, T’Pol spoke up.

“The captain and Shran should be leaving for the planet soon. I’d like to meet him on the platform before he leaves.”

“Mal said he was transporting the cap’n down.”

She looked into his eyes. “I’ll see you this afternoon for testing.”

As she was about to get up, he stopped her with his voice. “Avoiding this isn’t going to help.”

Before she could correct him, he did it himself. “It’s not gonna help me.”

“I have a duty to perform.”

Tucker stuck out his lower lip and gazed down at the table. He was surprised she stuck around for a minute and wondered what she was trying to assess.

“It seems the resolution we both seek isn’t one that is mutually beneficial. I urge you, as a friend, to allow this to fade over time,” she said.

He was about to protest, but she could apparently read him too well – she always could.

“It will _eventually_ fade over time. If I have learned anything about you, Trip, it’s that your heart is always open and that you need time.”

With that, she walked away. The words she’d spoken, everything she’d said had to be wrong. Being together felt like an inevitability, not something that after a confusing year and a night of great sex would end so unceremoniously. Maybe this was how a Vulcans dated. Maybe this was part of their mating customs. Maybe … maybe he’d need to think about this and determine what exactly she meant.

_Too bad I gotta see her in another hour._

TBC

 


	6. Chapter 6

When Archer stepped off the transport platform, he was surprised to see T’Pol. These days, transporting seemed rudimentary – you transport out, you transport back and then you go back to work. It was hard to believe at one point in time he thought the contraption was dangerous.

After introducing Jhamel, T’Pol gave a nod.

“Welcome aboard.”

“It’s warm here,” Jhamel said, smiling.

T’Pol cocked her eyebrow. “It’s approximately 23 degrees.”

“You’re a Vulcan?” Jhamel asked.

T’Pol’s eyes glanced over to Archer and then back to the blind woman. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Although I didn’t read your mind, I could sense something that surrounds you … something like a wall. I’ve heard that’s true for your species.”

The Vulcan furrowed her brow.

Archer explained. “It’s true. Vulcans try and hide their telepathic abilities.”

It drew a skeptically raised brow from his first officer who still wasn’t exactly clear what information he’d gained from Surak. Truth be told, he wasn’t either. Sometimes things popped into his head that he clearly never experienced. Before he could open his mouth to explain, she anticipated his word.

“Surak?” she asked.

He shrugged.

The Aenar gave a larger smile. After blindly staring into space, she turned her head in the general direction of Archer.

“Your wife?” Jhamel asked.

Archer furrowed his brow and scanned the Vulcan with his eyes. “Yes.”

“I could tell,” she said. Her lips sloped up.

“Can’t everyone,” Shran grumbled.

The captain was about to roll his eyes when the Aenar spoke again.

“Although, I would say your marriage is … unique,” Jhamel said.

“Yes it is.” Without saying more, Archer decided to end the conversation. “Our telepressence unit is located in Sickbay.”

Shran took her elbow and the two headed off. Archer was about to march behind them when T’Pol snagged his arm.

“We were able to track the marauder,” she said. “Captain, I’m not certain how successful the telepressence will be. When I used it, it was ….”

After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “You okay?”

“It was not an entirely pleasant experience.”

His eyes must’ve stayed on her longer than he expected, because she answered his question. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said. _If T'Pol had trouble, I wonder_ _how Jhamel will do?_

With more than a raised eyebrow, she stared into his eyes. “It’ll take some time to track the alien ship.”

He nodded, still lost in thought.

"I doubt it will work," she said. "She seems young and inexperienced."

"That's what I thought about you when you first came aboard." As her lips flattened, he smiled more.

"Practicing your Tellarite?" she asked.

"Nope, just teasing my wife." He gave her a quick wink. "I’ll get her acquainted with the device. You have the Bridge.”

T’Pol strode on toward the turbolift and Archer took a right at the next junction, toward Sickbay.

_"Wife" ... doesn't sound all that bad._

* * *

Midnight came and went and both Archer and T’Pol were both on the Bridge. The situation made it imperative they both were there. And, just as Archer had hoped and T’Pol had doubted, the marauder ships (there were two of them) were destroyed. A debt of gratitude was shared with Jhamel over the com and then relayed in person on their way to bed.

 

The Aenar gave a sad smile and accepted the thanks. Shran seemed to take strange pride in the young woman’s success and T’Pol couldn’t help but wonder whether the blue man possibly had found a new love.

_Stranger things had been known to happen, she thought quoting something the humans had said before._

When they finally reached his room, the two watched each other awkwardly until Jonathan excused himself and rifled through his drawers for the appropriate apparel.

T’Pol mindlessly fiddled with the bed sheets and sweatpants, she decided to broach a delicate subject.

“I suspect Shran will come into our room tonight. I suggest you not wear a shirt.”

His eyebrows climbed onto his head and his mouth already formed a million ways of saying “no.”

“Having a bear chest indicates intimacy. We may be able to fool him into thinking more is happening between us.”

Archer’s stance widened and he threw his chest out defensively. “Shran said he wouldn’t visit again.”

 

“He will,” she said.

“Oh really? What makes you say that?”

She refrained from heaving a small sigh and then said words she never thought would leave her mouth. “I believe the commander is interested in Jhamel. He may look to us as a cue for what to do.”

The human waved his hand in front of him and sounded definite. “No way.”

“He’s lonely. People will do many things when they’re lonely.”

Her mind drifted to almost a year earlier when she had insisted Tucker spend time with her instead of a MACO. The idea had seemed harmless, but when Trip had started touching her, she noticed she wanted to be touched – touched more, caressed. Inexplicably, she’d removed her robe and purred at him – hoping to engage him in sexual relations.

The next morning had been an embarrassment. How she’d ever let her emotions spin so far out of control was baffling … it would’ve been baffling to anyone who followed strict Vulcan tradition. She’d conjectured it was the trellium even as she woke him up to ask her to leave her room.

Ironically, there were some of the same feelings present tonight – the need to be touched. But, what outweighed those _emotions_ was the need to be in Jonathan’s presence … and for him to be in hers.

_Friendship?_

After leveling the comment about loneliness, he stared for a moment too long and then uttered words she thought she’d never hear.

“Are you and Trip still …?”

“Pardon me?”

Staring down at the ground he continued. “It’s none of my business … well, actually it’s ship’s business, but ….”

She waited.

“Is there … something …?”

“Yes?”

“Is there something going on?”

Blinking a few times didn’t deter him, but made him glance away. As she struggled to find the words to explain, adequately, the situation, she felt him grow more uncomfortable.

“I mean, it’s up to you two what you do in your personal time.”

She remained quiet.

“I just … well …,” he said. After gazing into her eyes a few more seconds, he decided to rid himself of the question.

“Forget it.”

“Captain, I ….”

“Never mind.”

He walked into the bathroom as she watched the closed door, pondering the right thing to say. When he exited, with his shirt on, she addressed his unspoken question.

“Perhaps you should sit down.”

Carefully, he folded himself in half and crossed his legs.

“Trip and I …,” she began

He waited.

“We … assisted each other ‘through a rough patch.’”

“A rough patch?”

“Perhaps it’s more appropriate to say we assisted each other during a difficult time.”

“Assisted?” he said, uncrossing his legs.

“Yes.”

“Does that mean …?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

She remained quiet.

“And are you still …?” he asked.

“No.”

“Not even after your divorce?”

“No.”

He was silent.

“My choice.”

“Oh,” he said.

Both looked at each other for a few seconds. “Do you have other questions?” she asked.

“Uhm, no.”

She could tell he did, but let the remark stand.

“I’ll return momentarily,” she said.

As she made her way into the bathroom and changed, she realized how unprofessional his questions were; he wasn’t asking as strictly her commander. Instead, he seemed to ask for other reasons.

_Interesting._

They were questions she’d wanted to answer anyway. In fact, she’d wanted him to become aware of her relationship with Commander Tucker last year in The Expanse. She was never clear why she’d wanted that attention from him. It wasn’t logical.

After changing into her pajamas and getting ready for bed, she noted with some satisfaction, Jonathan was bare-chested.

At first the visage brought satisfaction. Soon after, it brought curiosity – the need to feel it up against her bare skin.

_Impossible._

Climbing into bed, she was the first to turn off the light. As her eyes closed, she discerned a disappointed snort as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

A water polo dream came to an abrupt end as T’Pol grabbed his arm, jerked his body toward her and pressed her lips against his. Not only did her lips mesh to his, her hands combed through his hair and she moaned into his parted mouth.

 

Without a chance to register the event, he was yanked over her reposed form and his lips were pulled to hers again. Rather than fight, in a sleepy haze, he kissed her mouth, scooped his tongue against hers and pressed his lips against her neck and ears.

Just as suddenly as it began it came to a crashing halt.

“I …,” she said. Before she could finish her sentence and as he tried to collect his breath, she rolled on top of him and placed his fingers against the top button of her pajama top.

“Undo them. Hurry,” she instructed.

Puzzled, he worked to undo the first button.

She let out a moan and urged him on. “Jonathan.”

_This is crazy._

“Hurry,” she said.

When his trembling fingers found the buttons again, she wrapped her hand around his, stopping him. As he watched on with confusion, T’Pol rolled off.

“I apologize,” she said.

As he was about to explain he was pretty worked up, too, she gave him more information.

“I don’t think he’ll be back,” she whispered.

_Him? Shran? he thought._

“I was surprised he came in a second time. I’m sure he wanted to clarify we were heading toward the throes of passion.”

_I certainly was._

“You … role play … well,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said. A stray hand pushed his hair back as he internally tried to stymie his libido.

With a lopsided frown, he noticed her cheeks were flushed green – as if she was enthralled with their activities. Sighing only internally, he decided that was it. Without skipping a beat, Archer grabbed his pillow and struggled out of the covers.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To sleep on the floor.”

“You’ll be tired and ….”

“It’s for the best.”

“Shran could come in again,” T’Pol said. The information had been a warning and the top button of her blouse laid splayed open as bait. He shook his head and walked toward the door of his room.

“I can lock him out.”

“But ….”

“That’s final,” he said. Thumbing his fingers against the panel and then walking to the middle of the floor he settled down.

“He can still override that code.”

The captain turned around annoyed and threw an angry glare even in the darkness.

“It was in paragraph …,” she began.

“I read it!”

“Then you know ….”

“Yes. It doesn't matter. I'm calling it a night,” he said. Ending the conversation, he threw himself down on the deck plating and stared up at the darkened ceiling. He risked a glance and saw her rub her cheek into her pillow. Snapping his eyes away, he focused back on the ceiling and then closed them with frustration. Instead of heading straight to sleep he wondered whether she was still awake and if her body was as titillated as his.

After only an hour, he heard a voice cut through the dark. “He’s pacing outside.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered, fully awake.

“Oh yes.” After a second, she whispered again. “Come here.”

After tip toeing over to her, he sat on the bed.

“Andorians can’t hear very well, but I think we should whisper,” she said.

He nodded. “You said you didn’t think he’d come back,” he said.

T’Pol remained silent for a few seconds. “I believe he might be trying to listen for ….”

The comment drifted off into the air. He waited for a few seconds for her to continue the thought, but it was never completed.

“Listen for … what?” he asked.

Even in the darkness, he could feel her eyes on him as if the news she was about to deliver would be embarrassing. He braced himself.

“To determine whether we are … enjoying a union.”

_Enjoying a union? Does she mean …._

Coughing lightly into her hand, she clarified. “Having sexual relations.”

_Oh, God._

“Do you think he’ll come in?” he asked.

“As I said, Andorians don’t hear well.”

“I think we should just tell him that we aren’t married and ….”

“Get under the covers,” she instructed.

A furrow sprang up between his eyes. “T’Pol.”

“I believe we can continue the ruse without actually participating in ….”

“This is _not_ a good idea.”

“Follow my lead,” she said.

Almost as if on cue, he heard someone entering codes to the room outside. Without thinking, he jumped under the covers, lying loosely on top of his first officer as she brought the bedspread over their heads. Although he never heard the door slide open and closed, he could feel someone in the room with them – watching them, waiting to speak. Just as he was about to call everything off, he heard T’Pol moan under him.

Staring on with confusion, he was about to ask if she was all right, when she groaned again.

“Yes,” she said. Widening her eyes, she seemed to encourage him to do the same.

_I get it._

“Oh,” he said, joining in. Deciding to give a bit of reality to it, he mimicked the motions of a … union … without putting her (or himself) in any undue humiliation.

T’Pol’s eyes slipped shut.

_She’s probably just as uncomfortable as I am._

And then suddenly her lips found his, catching him in a half groan.

_I’m sure she’s doing this to make it seem more real._

When their lips broke apart, she moaned softly into his ear, and his body came alive.

“Oh, God,” he whispered.

Swallowing deeply, he continued the ruse, hoping to stifle his interest when their hips accidentally collided inappropriately. A curse left his lips and he heard a more authentic moan escape her mouth.

Instead of backing away, she kissed him with more fervor and he permitted their bodies to connect just as before. His hand cupped her face and his thumb stroked her cheekbone.

“Yes,” she said.

His fingers rushed through her hair and he felt his teeth tug at her lips. Unable to stop, their tongues captured the other’s and he moaned deeply into her throat. The heat of the moment chased away all thought and rationality and their movements became more hurried and sensual. Her fingers felt his chest, skimming through the hair that grew there, and his mouth and tongue darted along her neck.

“God, you feel so good,” he whispered. Continuing on autopilot, his hand flattened up against the smooth skin of her waist and slid up a few centimeters. Feeling one of her ribs, he huffed into her open mouth and was about to let his hand wander up further, when she disturbed the moment.

“He’s gone,” she said in a pant. A hand snaked around his, warning him to stop. Letting their fingers move away from each other, they both emerged for air – both literally and figuratively.

Falling clumsily at her side, he stared at the ceiling wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Wearily, he brought a hand over his eyes and left it there as his mind replayed everything that had happened since they’d crawled into bed with each other.

“Jonathan ….”

It didn’t make sense to answer, so he remained quiet, hoping to slow the Latin beat his heart was thumping to.

“I don’t believe that was Shran,” she said.

“What?” he finally said. Rolling onto his side he waited for an answer.

“The smell in the room … the scent …. I wasn't able to discern it until just now."

He eyed her suspiciously.

She said, avoiding his gaze, "It was Trip.”

TBC

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Trip!” he asked. As he sat up, she could see his confusion – probably from more than just learning his friend was in the room.

“Why would he just come in?” he asked.

She didn’t have any answers.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Trip?”

Her eyes caught his and she confirmed with a small head bob.

“I know he’s got the wrong idea about us,” he said.

Although at first they’d pretended to be in an impassioned embrace, by the time Trip left she’d experienced something that was real. The way his body, even though their clothing, snugly connected with hers elicited … pleasure.

“Does he have the ‘wrong idea?’” she asked.

Prolonged silence filled the air.

Hair akimbo, thanks to her fingers, he stared at her and she met his gaze with the same intensity.

“T’Pol, I think things just got out of hand.”

She was almost certain that was a lie, and she suspected he knew that was untrue as well. When their bodies collided, she could _feel_ his interest in her. Struggling whether to ask him about it, she directed an eyebrow at him, hoping he’d struggle at the unasked question.

She was not disappointed.

“I mean … under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t have happened,” he said.

She blinked three times.

“I think we were both caught up in the heat of the moment,” he added.

She didn’t blink.

“Weren’t we?” he asked.

It was times like these she draped herself in the mantle of logic.

“Although we were encouraged by the moment, you and your body, seemed eager to continue. I believe if I hadn’t caught your hand you would’ve –“

He interrupted her. “You moaned in my ear.”

“You indicated I felt good.”

He frowned.

As she opened her mouth, he began to think aloud.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” Dryly she remarked, “We’re married.”

“We’re not _really_ married.”

“Yes we are. Phlox conducted the ….”

“No, I mean, we’re not permanently wedded.”

That was true, but somehow that thought hadn’t come to light, at least in her brain. She must’ve waited too long to respond, because he questioned that assumption.

“Are we?” he asked. His tone sounded demanding.

“Of course not,” she said.

After a long sigh, he looked into her eyes. “I think living in close quarters and pretending we’re husband and wife has affected us.”

_Perhaps he is right._

“If we weren’t trying to convince Shran about our nuptials, we never would’ve acted as if we were ….”

“Enjoying a union?”

“Right. Which means we never would’ve …”

“Made out?” she asked. It was a colloquialism she’d heard from Trip.

He winced. “Yeah.”

Silently T’Pol wondered about the deductions. Gazing at him she gathered he wasn’t entirely convinced of what he was saying either. One thing was true: playing husband and wife _had_ taken a toll on her. For the past two days, her concentration had been askew, her mental acuity had been diminished and her emotions had swirled near the surface. Being with the captain usually felt comfortable and relaxing, but now it felt dangerous.

“Maybe we should set some ground rules,” he said.

“For example …?”

“I should wear a shirt to bed.”

Raising her brow at half-staff, she agreed. “Good idea.”

“I don’t think we should touch ….”

“Perhaps only when Shran is around.”

He concurred. “I’m glad that’s settled.”

_I don’t believe it’s settled at all._

“I should probably talk with Trip in the morning.”

“Undoubtedly,” she said. If she knew the engineer, and she did – a little too well, she knew he was hurting.

With that, he grabbed his pillow again and settled down on the floor to sleep the rest of the night. Closing her eyes, she thought about what would’ve happened had she allowed his hand to roam her skin. It kept her awake. Because the room was silent, devoid of snoring, she wondered if he was awake, too.

* * *

Trip hurried back to his room – stunned. No, scratch that. He was more than stunned, he was shocked beyond all belief.

 

_He noticed Shran creeping in and out of the captain’s quarters and decided to drop by to make sure both his senior officers were okay. After depressing the chime and not getting an answer, he paced hoping his brain would come to the right decision._

Something’s probably wrong. I should make sure they’re okay.

_When he stepped across the portal he thought for a second they were pulling his leg. The two looked like they were wrestling under the covers and the moans that emitted from both sounded as fake as the day was long. He’d had first-hand knowledge of T’Pol whimpering in delight. And that sure as hell wasn’t it … at least at first._

_As he tried to figure out the most appropriate thing to do next, he sensed a change. The movements under the covers suddenly seemed more real and she whispered a moan that made the hairs on his arms stand up and prickled his skin._ That _was genuine._ That _had been the groan that escaped her lips as she’d fallen into bliss for him, coaxing him to do the same._

_Standing there, mouth agape, he backed up slowly hoping not to alert anyone, especially Porthos. Luckily, the dog opened both eyes, raised his little doggie head and then grumbled back to sleep._

_When he was almost out of the room, he heard something else that made his stomach weak. Jon said, “God, you feel so good.”_

_That’s what drove him out, scurrying back to his place._

The events played in his mind – plaguing it. It brought into the spotlight something he hadn’t really considered for a while: how his friend may have been interested in her for three years now. When the Vulcans, including that slimy Tolaris character, were around, he’d personally accused the captain of being jealous. And it was the right accusation to make. After making a big fuss about T’Pol spending time with the Vulcans, he’d sulked around Enterprise wondering when she’d be back.

Then there was that time before entering the Expanse, when they thought T’Pol would be dropped off on Vulcan. Trip had wondered if the guy was harboring some kind of crush on her, but figured it was just a captain saddened by the loss of a good officer. When he’d asked about a new science officer, the captain had been quick to dismiss it.

And, although he was grateful for the decision not to line the hull with trellium, it didn’t seem like the kind of decision Captain Archer would make – especially the one hell bent on destroying the Xindi weapon. He’d made a personal decision based on his feelings for a friend.

_Maybe more than a friend._

Those decisions weren’t made by the captain; they’d been made by a guy who’d had _feelings_ for her. Trip had just figured the man had done those things out of friendship and care – not love.

_Boy, was I off base._

He’d never know T’Pol’s mind. The woman was about as complex as a differential equation based on the fluidity of water – a problem that almost got him flunked out of advanced theoretical calculus in college.

_Maybe this marriage brought out his feelings for her._

Glumly, he slid into his bunk and thought about what to do next.

_Captain Hernandez has been trying to recruit me for months._

Picking up a picture of Lizzie, the one he kept by is bed, he nodded.

_I’ll tell him tonight._

* * *

Jhamel enjoyed the new sounds and smells aboard Enterprise. Going back to her home seemed almost impossible after her stay, especially without her brother. Her door chime rang and she awkwardly stood trying to remember how many steps it took to get to the door.

 

After she opened it, she smelled and sensed who it was.

“Shran.” she said. A smile overtook her albino face.

“You know me too well.”

Waving her hand out, she hoped he would come in instead of wait at the door. When he didn’t take a step forward, she urged him in. “You have something to tell me.”

“I know you must miss your brother. When Talas died, the hardest thing to do was go to sleep that night.”

Staring off where she assumed he was, she agreed. “Yes, I haven’t been able to sleep.”

Making her way to sit on her bed, she gave a small nod. After only a few seconds, he sat next to her.

She said, “I can’t go to bed – everything’s that happened. Captain Archer said these creatures that harmed my brother are Romulans.”

“We think that, but we’re not 100 sure.”

“It’s hard to believe a species would be so cruel.”

Somehow, she felt the warmth of his smile and a hand almost touch her; before his hand could reach her it retracted.

“You’re so young,” he whispered.

“You must’ve seen so many things.”

“I have. Things some people should never really see.”

The two became silent for a moment, and she guessed he was probably thinking of his crew that died. Because she was highly telepathic and slightly empathic, sadness crept over her and she felt her uncontrollable antennae droop.

“You’ll ask Captain Archer to return you to Andoria?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Hoping to change the subject, she decided to talk about the observations she made about the two most senior officers on the ship.

“He and his wife – they’re interesting,” she said.

“A human and a Vulcan.”

“No, something more.”

“Like?” he asked.

“Discomfort. Confusion. Deceit.”

“Deceit? Like they’re not married?” he asked. She could almost feel his antennae jutted out over his forehead in near-anger.

“I haven’t read Captain Archer’s mind, but I think they are married … and yet they aren’t.”

“What does that mean?”

The Aenar starred into space. “I don’t know.”

She felt him push himself off the bunk and begin to pace. “I’ve suspected something strange going on myself. But, it’s hard to put a finger on exactly what the problem is.”

“Is it so important?” she asked.

He went silent for almost a minute. “Yes. My honor, Talas’ honor, my crew’s honor – they’re all at stake. I can’t have let Talas die in vain.”

_I wish I hadn’t brought up their relationship._

She knew of only one way to relieve her friend of his torment, at least momentarily.

“Maybe I can help.”

“How?”

“I can scan his mind, if he permits me.”

* * *

Shran rubbed his antennae and thought about the two things that kept him awake most of the night: Jhamel and the information she’d shared about Archer and his Vulcan. He needed help sorting things out – Talas had only died a few days ago, and it was time to tell Archer that the marriage to his first officer was under investigation.

 

Strutting up to Archer’s cabin he depressed the chime and noticed it wasn’t working. Although he was used to entering their quarters unannounced, he believed the two were intimate last night and decided to show a little tact – something he wasn’t used to doing. Annoyed at the machinery that didn’t work, he knocked at the door loudly – hoping it was the appropriate thing to do.

The Vulcan was the first thing he saw.

“Yes?” she asked. She was dressed in the blue nightgown he saw her in last night.

“Your husband here?” he asked, brushing past her into the cabin.

“He’s in the shower.”

“I’m here to see him.”

The Vulcan cocked her haughty eyebrow at him and he frowned in response.

“If he’s your _husband_ , you should let him know I’m here. I want to have a drink with him,” Shran said.

“But, he should be out any minute,” she said.

_She seems reticent - further evidence._ “Tell him I’m waiting. Tell him!”

He could tell she was going to ague, which made him reassert his claim. “According to paragraph …,” he began.

T’Pol gave a brief head nod, took a deep breath and headed into the bathroom. As the door slid behind her, he could hear her announce her presence and him give a manly yelp.

“I apologize for startling you ….”

“What the hell…!”

“Shran insisted I inform you he’s waiting for you.”

“Did he? Well, tell that blue of son a –“

“He’s in the room.”

“He’s what!”

“He’s in the room.”

“Great. I’ve got work to do and -”

“Jonathan, according to paragraph ….”

“I read it!”

“Then you know ….”

“Yes, I know. Jesus. All right, tell him to wait in the Mess Hall.”

“Very well. You’re almost finished?”

“Yes … _dear_.”

After a few seconds, she emerged wearing a furrow in her brow. Before she could open her mouth, he waved her comments away.

“I heard, I heard.”

“Then you know he’d like you to wait in the Mess Hall?”

He shook his head. “I’ll wait for him right here.”

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opened and revealed a drenched human with a towel around his middle.

“What the f!” he asked.

The Andorian interrupted him. “I decided to wait for you.”

Archer grumbled under his breath about his privacy, keeping one hand clutched at his towel as the other explored his drawers.

“He’s testy this morning,” Shran said.

She corrected him. “Not just this morning.”

Archer’s glare punished Shran and then his wife.

Testing the two, Shran said something that he hoped would needle the human. “I thought you’d be in a better mood this morning considering you got … lucky last night.”

Ignoring the remark, the captain stalked back to the bathroom, carrying his clothes with him. As the door shut, his Vulcan spoke.

“Neither humans nor Vulcans care to discuss private and personal details.”

_That’s suspicious._

He said, “Your Vulcan hearing should’ve alerted you to my presence last night.”

“It should’ve.” Her eyes hit the ground. “Other matters drew my attention.”

Distrustfully, he eyed her.

Probably to throw him off the trail, she asked a pointed question. “You came here to discuss Jhamel with Jonathan?”

_Damn, she’s good._

“Partially. How’d you know?” he asked.

“It’s obvious.”

His antennae lay back in surprise.

“As obvious as her interest in you,” she said.

Shran stared at his feet. “We’ve both lost someone.”

“Yes. However, I doubt Jhamel would’ve joined you if she wasn’t attracted to you.”

He disagreed. “She came because she was trying to help her brother.”

“I believe that was only part of the reason.”

The Andorian gave a sly smile and reassessed the Vulcan.

“You’ve experienced things that interest her,” she added.

“She’s younger – significantly younger.”

“Age is irrelevant.”

The Andorian rewarded her with a broader smile. “You only say that because you’re older than the pink skin.”

An eyebrow cocked at the comment and caused the blue man to chuckle. “You’ve cheered me up Vulcan.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but then again – you must be used to emotions.”

“Living aboard Enterprise for four years has certainly given me insight into them.”

He gave a frown. “I was talking about your _husband_.”

“Oh, yes. His are some of the most confusing.”

Shran agreed. “I can imagine.”

Archer emerged from the bathroom again donning a uniform and a frown. A tiny speck of toilet paper stuck to his left cheek – one that was spotted with blood. Before the Andorian could say anything, T’Pol snaked her hand around his forearm, leaned over and gently pulled at the paper.

Hmmmm.

“Thanks,” Archer said, squinting.

“I’ll see you on the Bridge,” she said.

As the two headed out the door and to the Mess Hall, Shran spoke, hoping to taunt the captain. “You’ve got a fine woman.”

Archer stopped in his tracks. “A few days ago, you lit into her.”

The Andorian scowled and his antennae reeled back – offended. “That was a few days ago.”

He rolled his eyes in response. The blue man let that gesture go; he had other matters to discuss.

“What was so important that you couldn’t wait to speak to me about?” the human asked.

When the two entered the Captain’s Mess, Shran made for the ale and pulled out two glasses. Extending one to Archer, he watched the human decline. With a grunt, Shran poured two glasses anyway and slid one in front of the captain, encouraging consumption.

“Women are mystifying.”

Archer’s shoulders sagged and a sigh escaped his mouth. “ _This_ is what was so important?”

“Do you think Jhamel is too young for me? Be honest.”

The captain shrugged and shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know.”

“She’s nothing like Talas – she doesn’t have that fire and passion. No, Jhamel is more refined – serene. I think she’s interested in me and I’m attracted to her, but ….”

“I don’t have time to talk about your love life.”

Shran threw the concoction down his throat. A sneer crossed his lips and his eyes narrowed. “You have time.”

The captain’s hand wrapped around the drink and he sipped it like an Andorian child would.

“Fine. Seems like you might be rushing things. Maybe it’s best you let nature take its course,” Archer said.

Shran grinned broadly and he tested the captain. “Took you years to hook up with the Vulcan.”

“Hmmm.”

“Andorians don’t have that kind of patience.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

Shran slammed another glass of the blue ale. “You’ve got bags under your eyes. I suppose you and the Mrs. didn’t sleep?”

“Something like that.” After taking another sip and screwing up his face, he leaned over. “Why did you really ask me here?”

_Time to come clean._

“Jhamel said something that bothered me. She said you and the Vulcan may not be married.”

The captain squirmed only slightly, but enough to make the Andorian more skeptical of their wedded union.

“She said both of you were uncomfortable, like you might be lying,” Shran said.

Archer nearly choked on his drink as he set the glass on the table.

“I don’t like to be deceived, Archer. You wouldn’t fool me, would you?”

The human stared into his eyes. “No, Shran. I promise, we’re married.”

The Andorian nodded and looked across the room. “Then you’ll let Jhamel scan your mind?”

The captain stood. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

“If you are married, then you have nothing to fear.”

“I would think you would’ve been convinced by now,” Archer said. His eyebrows raised as if he were alluding to more than what was said.

The remark didn’t go unnoticed. “It did look like you were closing in on the throes of passion last night.” Pointing his fingers, his antennae wiggled. “I could’ve stayed. I’d be within my rights, but I thought you deserved to be alone.”

“Gee, that’s good of you.” He said, tossing down the rest of the ale. “So you believe we’re married.”

“Jhamel’s information gives me doubt.” As the pink skin opened his mouth, Shran intervened. “She wouldn’t lie to me – she’s too innocent. I don’t have much of a choice. Meet me in my quarters at 1500 hours.”

The human stared off into space and nodded blindly.

As Shran was almost out the door, he turned on his heel. “Bring your Vulcan.”

TBC

 


	8. Chapter 8

When Archer entered the Bridge, he had a lump in his throat and a feeling of dread writhing around his stomach. Settling down, uneasily, into his chair, he could feel T’Pol stare at the back of his neck. Turning ever so slightly, he nodded toward his Ready Room.

After they reached the small room, Archer loomed over her.

“We’ve gotta tell him,” he said.

She seemed to know immediately who “he” was and what they needed to tell him.

“What happened?”

Ducking under beams as he paced, he found the words fumbling out. “Jhamel … sensed something from us that made Shran suspicious.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow and looked toward the ground only for a moment.

“I was concerned this might happen,” she said.

“Shran asked us to come to his quarters at 1500. I’ll tell him everything ….”

“Captain, the punishment for this is death.”

Archer shrugged – he knew: a public disembowelment – kinda like something that might happen in the Dark Ages. That sounded like a particularly nasty way to go.

“Maybe Shran will show mercy,” he said.

The Vulcan became more serious – if it was possible – and grabbed his wrist.

“I can’t allow that to happen,” she said.

He looked down and saw her grabbing his arm. Gently, without wrenching it away, he collected his arm back.

“I think we’re out of options,” he said.

She stared into space for a few moments and then turned slowly to him. “I could try and perform a mind meld.”

Archer raised his eyebrows. Suddenly in a rush, as if a dream, he saw an ancient ritual, one that had been performed for thousands of years. Chanting men in long flowing robes placed their fingers along each other’s faces and touched minds. The act was intimate, but lacked physicality that humans think of such a moment. More information sparked along his neuropaths and he realized the meld she was suggesting was quite deep: she wanted to plant false memories into his subconscious. With these melds all of his thoughts would be available to her. _Everything_ would be available to her.

“You haven’t done this before,” he said. He didn’t have to ask her to know it was true.

“Perhaps the knowledge you retained from Surak …?”

He thought she hadn’t, in a way, believed it to be true. As if a voice spoke independently from his own, he answered. “Of course. It would be fascinating to assist.”

She stared in response until he coughed politely into his hand.

“This mind meld would be deep. I would have to touch your subconscious, deposit memories, in order for you to believe everything we’ve agreed to. It’s difficult, but the Kir’Shara says it’s possible.”

He nodded. “I know.”

It wasn’t dangerous for her; if it was he’d automatically dismiss the idea.

“Then you know this is our only option.”

He remained quiet, as if he hadn’t decided it was their only option.

“All my thoughts – all of them – would be available to you.” That was something that concerned him much more than trusting her to supplant old memories.

“Jonathan?” she asked, prompting him to speak.

“How much time will we need?”

Relief crossed her features. “I don’t know. I would suggest we start as soon as possible.”

Archer noted the time – 0917 – and nodded.

“I’ll need time to meditate and you should mentally get ready as well. Meet me in my quarters at 1200 and wear something comfortable. Chances are likely we will be sitting for some time.”

“All right.”

* * *

The atmosphere had to be peaceful, so she lit the candles in her room. After the last wick was set ablaze she reminded herself that _she_ needed to be just as calm and serene. Changing into her Vulcan robes she sat down on her meditation mat and stared into the flame.

_Logic. Logic is the beginning and the end._

It was a chant she’d learned as a child – something that put her mind at ease. As she slipped into a trance, she neatly tucked away her emotions – folding away doubt, setting fear in a drawer and stuffing away anxiety – feelings that threatened the success of the endeavor.

Hours, which felt like minutes, flew by. Just as her mind drifted from the trance to consciousness, her eyes flittered open at the door chime.

It was Jonathan. Following her instructions, he arrived at her quarters dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. She knew there wasn’t a lot of time, so she got down to business.

“Sit down on the mat.”

Noticing the captain glancing around her quarters, she pointed to the blue pad in the middle of the floor. Cautiously, he headed toward it, folded himself in half, crossed his legs as he would’ve in Boy Scouts and gazed up at her.

Kneeling carefully across from him, she gathered her robe around her and stared into his eyes.

“Although I’ll be able to see your most intimate thoughts, I’ll focus on only the details of our marriage.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Lifting only a few fingers, she pressed them carefully to the psi points on his face (temple, cheek and the side of the nose) and said a few words. After only a minute, he urged her to relax.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said.

The damage done to her by Tolaris left her uncertain.

“I trust you,” he whispered.

She proceeded as he closed his eyes.

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.”

His mind was open, reaching for a connection and hers lingered just beyond grasp for only a moment. Waiting, searching she reached for his thoughts – his presence –and pulled them to her.

“Our minds are one,” she whispered.

Touching his thoughts, many ideas and memories flittered by. Ignoring them, she pressed deeper into his mind, burrowing down into the recesses of it – his subconscious … the part of his brain that held his deepest, most personal thoughts.

His cheek twitched in response and she understood why: he was a private individual, especially for a human.

Traveling deeper she sensed his innermost doubts: lack of self-confidence, jealousy, possessiveness and the need for companionship. Sordid, repressed recollections lurked there – like stranding innocent crewmen in the Expanse; cloning Trip to keep Enterprise running; throwing a rock to see if he could hit a bird and accidentally killing it when he was 7; and watching his father’s eyes stare open, paralyzed, as he realized the man was dead.

By the way his eyes fluttered, she could tell he wanted to avoid remembering, but she kept her grip tight and continued to probe. Accepting she’d entered his mind far enough, she began to weave their tale, telling him the events they’d agreed upon as if they’d happened; she was introducing a new past.

“After Shran told you about Talas, you decided to reveal your feelings to me at dinner. Before you had that opportunity, our touched hands and I instead confessed I had divorced Koss for you, Jonathan. I told you I cherished you.”

She saw a small smile play on his lips as if he was recalling the moment.

She continued. “You told me you’d cared for me ever since I was diagnosed with Pa’nar.”

He corrected her. “No, I’ve loved you since we were trapped on that planet and Shran came to rescue us. It was the same day the Vulcans threatened to take you away for my actions on P’Jem.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. _He shouldn’t be unable to resist the suggestion._ With a little force, she reasserted what they’d already decided.

“No, you cared for me since I was diagnosed with Pa’nar.”

He was silent and she straightened herself, satisfied with his capitulation.

“After we confessed our feelings to each other, you scooped me into your arms in the Mess Hall and we touched lips. Then, together, we walked to your quarters and there we became intimate. That night you insisted on marrying me and interrupted Dr. Phlox to conduct the ceremony.”

His face was neutral.

“You agreed to a challenge to fight Shran to the death, but I wouldn’t let you. I spoke to the Andorian behind your back because I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want my husband to perish.”

Quietly, she could feel him accepting the information.

“Since the moment of our marriage, we’ve treasured each other and lived in wedded bliss in your quarters.”

She could feel his heart race and she added more information. “We spent our honeymoon cradled in each other’s arms whispering to each other in the starlight as you talked about retiring on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean.”

It was a flourish, but she decided using her imagination made the story more credible. Undoubtedly Shran would be thorough.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

The question brought her eyes suspiciously to his even though they were closed. “Of course, you are my husband. I have since you helped me with Menos.”

“You will remember everything that has happened during the past four days as if we’ve been married. Shran has falsely accused us. He’ believes we haven’t been wed, breaking Andorian laws, and will question you later today. Everything you say and do will indicate we’ve been married for the past four days. Everything.”

“When I first saw you, in Starfleet Medical, you were so beautiful,” he said. The sound of his voice sounded hypnotized and she believed his subconscious was filling in the gaps of information she hadn’t already covered.

His eyes opened and he whispered to her. “You’re beautiful now.”

She was silent, believing his mind was accepting the information readily. _Good._

“Yes, you think I’m attractive,” she decided to agree. “After all, I am your wife.”

His eyes slipped shut.

“And you find me attractive?” he asked.

“Of course. You are my husband.”

Giving a hint of a smile, he whispered to her. “I love nibbling on your ears, and I know you like it, too.”

She caught her breath; he was right, she had. It was one of the things she found most pleasurable the time they pretended to have sexual relations.

“I’m sure there are many things we’ve both enjoyed since our marriage,” she whispered.

“If you were in love with me for so long, then why did you have a relationship with Trip?” he asked.

At once, her hand retreated and he stared at her in a zombie-like state. Realizing she hadn’t closed the meld, she touched his face again and tried to bring their minds together again in hopes of ending the link. Instead, of successfully concluding, his mind was completely out of grasp. A wall suddenly developed between them and his feelings stayed sequestered behind a perimeter that she couldn’t sense or feel. She’d have to dig into his mind again, which she was loath to do. Instead, she tried to jostle his concentration to lower the barrier between them.

“Jonathan?” she whispered.

He suddenly jerked his eyes open. “Yes?”

Instead the meld was completely severed. Reeling a big, her trembling hand moved to her temple. After catching her breath and steadying her emotions, she glanced up and noticed his actions mimicked hers.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Running his hand along his face, he indicated his discomfort. “I feel strange.”

_That is not atypical for this type of meld._

“I’m so tired,” he said.

“I need to ask you some questions.”

Leaning back on the mat, he stared up at the ceiling. “What?” he asked hoarsely.

“When did you first realize you cared for me?” she asked.

Squinting his eyes into the dim lights of the cabin, he lay his head against the padded foam. “I can’t remember.”

“It was when I was diagnosed with Pa’nar.”

“Let me rest … just for a second,” he said.

_No, we don’t have time._ The chronometer on the wall indicated that had only a little more than an hour.

“I don’t believe the meld worked,” she indicated. “We should try to touch minds again ….”

“I want to shut my eyes, just for a minute ….”

“Jonathan, we only have 63.2 minutes before we’re scheduled to meet Shran,” she said. “We don’t have time.”

As if his weary body couldn’t fight the need to slumber, he immediately began snoring and ignored her repeated attempts – shaking, calling his name and shaking him again – to wake him.

Resigned, she stared at the floor. _It should’ve worked._

Moving onto other solutions, she decided to put security on standby outside of Shran’s quarters in case the Andorian was insistent on settling things immediately. At least that might spare the captain’s life for the short term.

* * *

“Wake up,” T’Pol whispered. It seemed like the twentieth time; she’d stopped counting after 10.

“Where am I?” Archer asked, looking around the room in a daze.

“In my room.”

Darting his hand over his eyes, he squinted.

“Are you still fatigued?” she asked.

Taking a deep breath, he waved away her concern. “I’m all right.”

With a careful eye, she watched him trying to recover and bent down to place her hand on his shoulder. “I have to ask you a few questions.”

He nodded.

“When were we married?”

“Huh?” he asked.

“When were we married?”

Gazing up at her he answered. “Four days ago. Why?”

“And, why did you decide to do so?”

His smile grew more genuine and warm. “What can I say? After you told me how you felt and your divorce … it seemed like the _logical_ thing to do.”

_Very good. He’s recalled that information as if it’s his memory._

“Can you stand?” she asked.

He nodded and with only a little help made it to his feet. Running his hand through his hair, he attempted to – what the humans would say – shake the cobwebs from his brain.

“Jonathan?”

Nodding he dismissed her concern. “I’m all right.”

As the two walked out the door, she noticed he stumbled – shuffling his feet more than usual to Shran’s door. Closing her eyes and denying the odds they faced to successfully pull this off, she depressed the chime.

A pair of beady eyes and two suspicious antennae greeted them. Swinging her eyes to the captain, she curled her fingers around his bicep.

“You asked us here?” she questioned.

Shran pointed into his room and to his bed. “Sit down!”

Jhamel sounded apologetic. “I apologize for the inconvenience I’ve caused.”

When the door slid shut, T’Pol heard footsteps outside and knew the security guards were there and at the alert.

Archer spoke up as the two parked themselves on Shran’s bunk. “It’s okay, Jhamel. Not your fault.”

Without skipping a beat or making small talk, Shran got straight to the point.

“You know why you’re here. And I think you know the penalty if I find out you lied about your marriage, pink skin.”

T’Pol spoke up for the captain. “You can sentence Jonathan to death.”

Shran stalked closer to the two of them. “Yes. And it’s an ugly way to go, Archer.”

“I’ve heard,” said the captain.

As T’Pol was about to speak, Archer puffed out his chest and smirked. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jhamel walked closer to Archer. “You will permit me to scan your mind?”

“Go ahead,” he said. His eyes drifted over to T’Pol for support as his hand wrapped around hers – something that startled her. Rather than decline the touch, she intertwined her fingers with his as he smiled.

“You did marry – four days ago after Shran told you about Talas,” the Aenar began.

T’Pol buried her surprise. _It worked._

“That evening you had dinner with T’Pol. As you were about to tell her your feelings, your hands touched and unexpectedly you two shared thoughts. T’Pol told you of her divorce – because she cared for you. And immediately you confessed you loved her, too.”

Shran narrowed his eyes and folded his arms stubbornly across his chest. “That doesn’t sound like deceit.”

T’Pol chimed in. “It’s as we say.”

Jhamel then frowned. “There’s a wall there – something almost impossible to see through.”

“Pink skin,” Shran said, “let her see.”

Archer sighed and relaxed, closing his eyes, as Jhamel gave a small start. “He’s protecting something.”

Her eyes darted one way and then the other as if prying deeper into his mind. Finally a smile worked across her lips. “He’s … he’s hiding intimate moments with her. The moment he knew he loved her – when they were on Coridan.”

Shran laughed. “That’s when I rescued your sorry hides.”

T’Pol’s eyes narrowed. _That was not what we agreed to._

Jhamel continued, “He’s remembering this morning when he awoke her face was on his bare chest. He spent almost twenty minutes staring at her, watching her sleep, as he caressed her hair.”

T’Pol refrained from raising an eyebrow. _He woke up on the floor this morning. I didn’t plant that information during our meld. Perhaps his mind has created moments to fill in the gaps I’ve left?_

“And after the moment he first confessed his love for you, he swept you into his arms and kissed you. As your lips touched, his stomach grew nervous with … butterflies? And his knees weakened.”

The Vulcan continued to remain stoic.

Jhamel ducked her head against her shoulder shyly. “Shran, he loves her. I believe them to be married.”

The Andorian was confused. “You said there were lies and deceit?”

“I don’t sense that. I only sense how much he loves his wife.”

As if admitting to the accusation, Archer’s head turned to T’Pol. “Yes, I do.”

The twinkle in his eyes seemed genuine and through the sensation of touching fingers with him, she sensed from his emotions that the statement was true.

“Then I presume this matter has ended?” T’Pol asked.

Shran gave a curt nod. “I suppose.”

Without giving a sigh, T’Pol stood up and stared at the Andorian. Just when she was about to excuse herself, she felt Archer’s hand snake around her waist and loosely hold her hip.

“No hard feelings?” Shran asked. His antennae drooped as to apologize.

Instead of shaking the Andorian’s hand, he pulled the Vulcan closer to him and agreed. “No hard feelings. I’ll ask the transporter team to stand-by any time you’re ready to leave.”

Shran spoke quietly. “If it’s all the same to you, I want to see you make it for another three days. It’s in paragraph ….”

T’Pol raised a brow. “The Andorian week is only five days.”

Shran shook his head. “We’re not on Andoria, Vulcan.”

Archer waved off the comment. “Fine. I think we can accommodate you that long. I haven’t received any new assignments from Admiral Gardner.”

“But, …,” the Vulcan began.

“Good night,” Archer said.

The two filed out of the room and walked down the corridor. When they were well out of range, she turned to him.

“Your arm is still around me,” she said. “And I don’t understand why you wish them to ….”

“Come here,” he said. Sneaking behind a bulkhead, well out of sight, he pushed her against the wall gently and then drew her into a passionate kiss.

When that embrace ended, she stared at him in disbelief. _The mind meld was more powerful than I suspected._ Her mouth opened and his index finger tapped her lips, silencing her.

“I know you don’t like public displays of affection. I just couldn’t help myself.” He beamed. “I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Her eyebrow perked up.

“You’re on the Bridge until 1800. Right?”

“Yes. Jonathan ….”

His lips danced along the slope of her ear and he whispered to her. “I’ll see you then.”

When his tongue flicked against the tip of her ear, she finally managed to blurt out a few words. “There’s something wrong.”

“I keep telling you I’m fine.”

“No, it’s not that. Our meld ….”

“What about it?”

“You asked me to plant memories ….” She glanced around. No one was around, but she felt the information was confidential, so she leaned in and said everything quietly. “I used the Shitau Vokaya so that we could deceive Jhamel.”

He stared into her eyes, obviously confused. “What about?”

“I created memories so that you’d believe we were happily wedded.”

Furrowing his brow, he shook his head. “You don’t have to create them – we are.”

As she was about to explain more, he interrupted her. “Listen, if you’re mad at me, can we talk about it tonight? Trip asked to meet me in my cabin at 1630. I wanted to read his report about the telepressence beforehand.”

For a moment the captain acted as if he recalled something, and then shook the thought away. It reminded her that the captain still hadn’t discussed what happened last night with the commander – he hadn’t had any time to.

“I think we need to discuss this,” she said.

“Sweetheart, can it wait until tonight?” he asked.

_Sweetheart?_ Baffled, she bobbed her head.

He winked and kissed her cheek. “Good, see you then.”

* * *

Archer had just enough time to change back into his uniform and review the report. Nothing looked really out of the ordinary. It wasn’t up to par with Trip’s usual work, but it was _not_ shoddy.

As he stared at the padd in his hand, the door chimed. _Has to be Trip._

“Come in,” he said. Confirming the young man’s company, his eyes fell back on the padd.

“I’m in the middle of your report. I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“There’s no getting around it. I missed a ten degree variance in the telepressence emitter.”

“I spoke to Phlox. He doesn’t think it had anything to do with Jhamel’s seizure.”

“But, he can’t be sure. Either way, I should’a caught it,” Trip said.

Dismissing it, he smiled. “We were all under a lot of pressure.”

Trip seemed to stand firm. “My mind wasn’t on the job.”

_Something’s bugging him. Maybe sitting together and talking as friends would help._

He got up to collect the whiskey he’d been saving up for a while and made a quip. “If that were true, you probably wouldn’t be standing here now.”

With a smile, he put the two glasses on the table and was in mid-pour when Trip spoke.

“Captain, I want a transfer.”

_What!_ He put down everything and stared at the wall not wanting to see Trip’s face; the guy sounded serious.

“Where?”

“Columbia.”

_Columbia!_

“They need experienced people,” Trip continued.

“You’ve turned them down twice before, why now?” Archer asked. He tried to recall the events that happened last night and kept coming up with uncertainty. Finally, his brain landed on something – Trip had accidentally walked in on he and his wife having sex. They’d been married for a few days and Trip seemed okay with the information.

_Didn’t he?_

“You’ve turned them down twice before. Why now?”

“I think I can do some good over there.”

“I need you here, Trip,” Archer said.

“They need me more.”

_What the hell is going on?_

“What’s this really about?” It made the man start pacing.

“I told you.”

“I haven’t heard _one thing_ that explains this.” When the captain’s eyes met Trip’s, the engineer immediately looked at the ground.

“I’ve said everything I want to.”

“That’s it.” The remark was something between a question and a comment. Giving a sigh, he sat down at his desk – it made him feel more comfortable.

“I’m supposed to accept that?” Archer asked, playing commander instead of friend.

The man with the puppy dog eyes nodded.

“And if I refuse your transfer?”

“Cap’n, as a friend, I’m asking ya. Let me do this.”

“It’s your career, Trip. But as a _friend_ , I’m asking you to stay.”

Trip didn’t think long; his mind seemed made up. “I can’t.”

_So that’s it then?_

“All right,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Dismissed,” Archer said, slipping into the role of captain.

As Trip walked out, he couldn’t help feeling more than a little betrayed.

_Why would he leave?_

More than ten years of friendship seemed to vanish in less than five minutes. The Trip he’d known would’ve stayed through anything or _at least_ would’ve told him what had been bothering him. They’d been through too much – way too much – for him to leave like this, especially now.

_But, he did._

This time, he’d take advantage of his captaincy, he’d wait until the actual paperwork crossed his computer and he’d worked out the details with Erika before ordering Enterprise to Earth. That bought him a little time. Trip often acted out of impulse; maybe a little time was all the guy needed.

Noticing the clock, he had a while before she got home and some work to do. Deciding it would cheer him up, he walked over to her quarters, gathered her candles, scattered them around his quarters and lit them preparing for when she got him. Ordering a few things from the Chef, he’d arranged for dinner in their quarters, ensuring the menu included items she liked.

After they were delivered, Archer got ready for bed and grabbed a book. Slipping under the sheets, he waited for T’Pol to get home.

Turning the 166th page to a novel that had apparently been on the Best Seller’s list “Why We Were Attacked,” a not very gripping tale explaining the importance of humanity in the universe, he saw his wife enter the door. She was significantly late.

Giving a broad smile and putting down the book, he leaned against the pillow.

“Hello. Trouble on the Bridge?”

"The repairs from the marauder ships took more time to repair than planned."

"Sorry."

Her eyes scanned the room. “You took the candles from my quarters.”

“You don’t really use your cabin any more. I didn’t see any harm in it.”

“We’re having dinner here?” she asked.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“You’ve removed your shirt.”

“You’ve seen my chest before.” He produced a lop-sided grin.

The Vulcan looked a little distracted, but sat on the edge of the bed.

“Jonathan, it’s imperative we discuss something.”

“I’m listening.”

“Before we entered Shran’s room, I melded with you and planted false memories in your mind. You believe we’re ‘happily’ married, but that isn’t the case.”

He sat up with a concern and touched her cheek. “You’re not happy?”

Before she could really answer that question, he reaffirmed how much she meant to him. “I am. You've made me deliriously happy.”

She turned her head and presented him a near frown. "It's not that I'm ... unhappy."

Instead of leaving her alone, which he gathered she wanted, he decided to lure her out of her bad mood and pressed his lips to her throat.

“Then, what’s wrong?” he whispered into her skin.

Her hand gently pressed against his chest, holding him at bay. “Jonathan ….”

“You’re angry that I let Shran stay, aren’t you?” he asked. “Well, he may not be sticking around for much longer anyway. We’ll be heading back to Earth sooner than expected.”

“Why?”

“Trip asked for a transfer,” he said.

The Vulcan’s face turned green – greener than usual. “Transfer where? The Columbia?”

“Yeah. I’m waiting until it’s official, then I’ll confer with Erika and Admiral Gardner on timing. I’m hoping he reconsiders. He has to.”

“Erika?” she asked. “You mean Captain Hernandez?”

_Ooops._

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. Although he’d never mentioned his brief relationship with the captain (the one that occurred only a few months ago), and didn’t think T’Pol was the jealous wife type, he didn’t exactly want to talk about it.

A little eyebrow peaked at him and he squirmed under the weight of it.

“Anyway,” he said, “let’s just enjoy tonight and worry about everything tomorrow.”

Before she could object, his lips touched hers and he brought her closer to him. It took only a few minutes of convincing her before she somewhat relaxed into his caresses, but something must’ve still been bothering her – although her mouth accepted him she seemed tense.

She broke away. "Perhaps we shouldn't touch lips."

_Oh, yeah. She's uptight. Maybe I can rectify that._

Suddenly, he worked his fingers and hands along her shoulders.

“That’s not necessary,” she whispered.

“Shhh,” he said.

“Captain ….”

“ _Captain_?” he asked. _All right._ “Lay down, Commander.” He used a playful tone.

She furrowed her brow.

“That’s an order.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just trust me,” he said.

Blinking several times over, he could tell she was considering her options. In the past four days, he’d never had to wheedle his wife to trust him. It nagged him as if there was something – a feeling or thought – just out of reach. Shaking it off, he decided to reassert his words.

“Trust me,” he said.

She laid down and he gave her further instructions. “On your stomach.”

“Why?”

“T’Pol?”

She obeyed him, her head facing away from him and toward the door, while he massaged and kneaded her back and shoulders. At first, when his hands wrapped around her shoulders, she stiffened. But it took only seconds for her to ease into it.

“That’s pleasant,” she remarked.

Without compunctions, he pushed away the covers and shifted positions to make it easier to access her shoulders. She was about to turn toward him, when he suggested she continue laying there.

“I’m just moving. You’re so tight, I wanted to really get at those muscles.”

She settled back and began breathing deeply. After several minutes of silence, hoping she'd wound down a little, he asked what was on her mind.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to discuss our mind meld today,” she said, sleepily - almost as if she'd forgotten about it.

As he rubbed his fingers into her neck for several minutes, he heard a tiny sigh escaped her mouth. Maybe not quite a sigh, maybe more like a little snort.

_She’s sleeping_.

Slipping back under the covers – it was getting a bit chilly – he shook her gently, hoping to rouse her without much success. Whispering in her ear, he hoped to wake her up.

“T’Pol, why don’t get some sleep.”

The Vulcan’s eyes barely opened. “All right.”

Carefully, she pushed herself off the bed and crossed the room to retrieve her pajamas. When he saw her heading to the bathroom, he decided to say something.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing.”

“Can’t you change in here?”

She narrowed her eyes and continued to the small room much to his disappointment.

_Man, she must really be mad at me._

When she emerged, her tired eyes could barely keep themselves open. It was unlike her to set clothes down in the middle of the floor, so when she discarded her uniform on the way to bed haphazardly, he knew she was exhausted.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. Before climbing into the covers, she swiveled toward the light and turned it off. Darkness settled into the room and she wiggled under the sheets, snuggling the covers around her.

“You sure?” he asked. He spooned his body loosely around her, placing his hand on her cool waist.

“Yes,” she said as her body nudged his hand away.

As if unable to take no for an answer, his body pressed flush against hers and he whispered into her ear. “What’s wrong?”

Shooting up like a rocked, she threw her hand threw on the light. “You’re naked?”

Confused, he told her what she’d already known. “I always sleep this way.”

TBC

Plant Memories

 


	9. Chapter 9

Unfortunately while turning on the light she saw some of him … exposed. T’Pol promptly averted her eyes, staring away from him toward the door.

 

“I didn’t know you _always_ slept this way.”

“You should’ve. I’ve slept this way since we’ve been married,” he said. She could feel him furrowing his brow, but didn’t look to verify.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His hand reached around her arm and he tried to persuade her to look at him.

Freezing her eyes on the same spot, she shrugged off his hand – afraid what she would see if she turned around.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that I’ve planted memories in your mind. You think we’re married.”

“You keep saying that. We _are_ married.”

After a long pause, he noted, “You can turn around.”

Sneaking a glance, she ascertained he was securely under the covers without embarrassing herself. Only then did she swivel her body and look him in the eyes. As her gaze fell on him, she detected sadness – as if he was hurt; it caused a wrinkle to form between her eyebrows.

“We are married, but it’s not what you think.”

“You keep saying you’re not happy.” Cupping her chin, he hoarsely whispered a question. “What can I do to make you more content?”

She went silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell him so that he’d understand. It was unfortunate she was too weak – both mentally and physically – to perform another mind meld tonight, it would answer his queries.

“T’Pol?” he asked as he stroked her hair.

“It’s nothing you’ve done … or haven’t done. That’s simply not the nature of our relationship.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re not intimate.”

“We have been.”

She shook her head and stared at the bedspread. “No, I mean … we’ve never been.”

He stared on in bewilderment as she explained it to him.

“We needed to deceive Shran and Jhamel into thinking we have been married for four days because the Aenar was going to scan your mind. Today, beginning at noon, we melded. During that process I introduced false memories into your subconscious. These _thoughts_ make it seem like we care more deeply about each other than we do.”

“False memories?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

Flattening her lips, she decided to be bold. “For example, as I’ve stated, we’ve never been intimate.”

He squinted his eyes and produced a lopsided smile. “We were last night.”

“That is a false memory.”

“That you introduced?” he asked.

“Not exactly that I introduced, but it’s something I’ve led you to believe.”

Shaking his head, he stroked her cheek. “Give me another example.”

“We’ve never admitted our feelings for each other.”

“Now, that can’t be true. I remember telling you how I felt about you four days ago. I remember confessing that I’d fallen in love with you on Coridan. I mean, I guess I’d known even before the Vulcans threatened to recall you, but after you were shot … I ….”

An eeriness traveled up T’Pol’s spine.

“Are you saying that was a memory that was introduced?” he asked.

Searching for the right words, she finally gave up. “On Coridan we were trapped together and I was wounded by the particle stream from a phase-rifle. _That_ part is accurate. Your memory of your feelings for me is not correct.”

“No, I distinctly remember holding your crumpled body in my arms and thinking how much you meant to me. You planted those feelings?”

“Not exactly,” she confessed. “I led you to believe your feelings for me began when I was diagnosed with Pa’nar.”

Shaking his head, he was quiet as if searching his memory. Finally, he stared into her eyes. “No.”

“Jonathan ….”

“The way I feel about you is real, T’Pol.” He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I’ve thought about you for years. That can’t be something you’ve ‘introduced.’”

“It’s not possible.”

“I’ve cared for you … loved you … for so long.”

Her eyes widened and for the first time in a year her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

“I’ve fantasized about you for years. Did you ‘introduce’ specific fantasies into my subconscious?”

An eyebrow raised, but she declined to comment. _No._

His mouth drew dangerously close to hers and she could feel his whisper on her lips. “I’ve dreamed of kissing you … holding you … making love to you for years.”

A reaction – a shiver – overtook her body; it was an instinct she couldn’t squash and he must’ve noticed.

His fingers stroked her cheekbone again and she couldn’t help but close her eyes. Slowly, his lips touched hers and she released a tiny sigh at the feeling. Before long, their tongues touched, exploring each other’s mouth and their fingers worked in each other’s hair.

Leaving her mouth, his tongue, lips and teeth played at her throat and she stretched her neck to receive them. All of this … all of this was making it difficult for her to think, and being exhausted certainly didn’t help matters.

“If we haven’t admitted our feelings for each other, why does this feel so familiar to me?” he whispered into her neck.

“We’ve done this before,” she said.

Kisses traveled up to her ear and he whispered seductively into it. “I thought you said we hadn’t been intimate?”

Goosebumps popped up all over her arms and legs as she struggled for how to respond.

“We’ve pretended to be intimate in order to deceive Shran,” she said.

“You mean we’ve only kissed before?” he asked as their lips momentarily broke apart.

“No.”

“More?”

“Yes.”

“How much more?” he asked.

Somehow, without her knowledge, his hand had already slid up her waist and swerved along the material of her pajama top.

“Oh,” she said. The statement was said more in surprise than excitement, but she could tell he mistook the meaning and permitted his hand to roam freely. As he did, his lips connected with hers again.

It was enough to encourage him to unbutton the first button of her pajamas. Barely catching her breath, she placed her hand over his.

“This isn’t right,” she said.

“This _feels_ right.”

“Just yesterday, you made it clear to me that you didn’t want to do anything more because it was inappropriate.”

“I don’t remember.” After pausing for just a moment, he stared into her eyes. “I know … regardless of what you’ve put inside my head or done to me … that I’m in love with you.”

His mouth descended on hers again and the Vulcan was swept up in the moment. After a few minutes of touching lips, they parted.

This has to stop.

At the moment she was about to let him know it was time to end their interlude, he posed a question.

“How do you feel about me?” he asked.

 _Perplexed._ “I doubt Jhamel will scan your mind again. I think I should get some sleep and we should attempt to meld first thing tomorrow. Hopefully by then, we’ll both be replenished – mentally and physically – enough to make another attempt. Yesterday you were quite fatigued from the concentration.”

“Does that mean you don’t feel the same way?”

“Good night,” she said. With that, she reached up, turned off the light and lay back on top of the covers.

Shutting her eyes, she hoped to suppress all the emotions that were threatening to gush out. As she nuzzled her cheek into the pillow, the light came back on.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

Flashing her eyes open, she saw his face was directly above her – it was waiting for an answer.

Restraining a sigh, she spoke. “I am still uncertain whether your feelings are the result of my planted memories.”

“I’m not asking you about my feelings, I’m asking about yours.”

Blinking into the light, she stared at his features. “I believe you already know what those are.”

Archer shook his head and squinted his eyes. “No.”

“Good night, Jonathan.”

She reached up and turned off the light, leaving him to stare into the dark in bafflement.

* * *

Jhamel waited on the bunk as Shran paced around the room for the better half of the day as he questioned her, rapid fire, about her feelings, the pink skin and the Vulcan.

 

“You said they were deceiving us,” Shran said again.

“I felt that way before, yes. But, when I scanned his mind recently I could tell he loved her. It seemed like he was happily married.”

“And you have no doubt about that? That pink skin is cunning.”

Jhamel, a patient creature, only gave the smallest of sighs. “You’ve asked me before. I have no doubt that he’s happily married and in love.”

“And why didn’t you scan the Vulcan?”

“Her mind is shielded from me. I could only pick up specific thoughts.” The Aenar gave a strange smile. “And even those I could decipher … I’m not sure how she feels.”

“Vulcans,” he said, probably sneering.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room and wheeled around to her. Although she couldn’t see the movement, she could sense the wind rushing by and knew his scurrying across the room had ended.

“What?” she asked.

“What could you sense from her?”

“A few things.”

“Like …?” He was obviously pleased with the new line of questioning.

“She finds her work here gratifying. She cares for the captain ….”

“Is it love?” he asked. “Not that the _Vulcans_ would ever feel or admit to such an emotion.”

“I don’t know. If I had to label it … I would say the emotion she feels predominantly is confusion.”

“Confusion? That makes no sense. About what?”

Jhamel titled her head and stared off into space. “I don’t know. Maybe confusion over her feelings for him.”

“Why should she be confused about her emotions for him? She’s married to him.”

“I don’t know.” Reaching out her hand in midair, she hoped to catch his and was disappointed when instead she felt him rush by again.

“It is about him, though?”

“Yes. It feels as if she’s working out her feelings for more than one person. But, I can’t say for sure, it was difficult to ….”

She could feel the Andorian stop and frown. “Tucker,” he said.

Jhamel shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I do. The way he was looking at the Vulcan in the meeting – it was as if he’s a scorned lover. I wonder if the she has both men wound around her finger. Those logical harlots .…”

“I don’t think she’s a harlot. I’ve heard the species is monogamous.”

Ignoring her, he continued, “She’s tricking more than us; she’s fooling Archer.”

“I don’t think so ….”

Sitting down on the bunk, finally, next to her, he said a few words. “Either she’s leading on Archer, or she’s deceiving me.”

The Aenar could pick up a plan bubbling in the Andorian’s mind. Hoping to dissuade him, she touched his hand.

“Perhaps it’s best you leave them alone.”

A hand fell gently on hers, reassuring her. “If the pink skin is in love with her, and she’s cheating on him, the least I can do is help him out. And if she’s deceiving me, then according to paragraph 14, I have to execute Archer.”

* * *

Trip couldn’t sleep. Instead of wandering into slumber, he spent a lot of time tossing and turning. After completing the paperwork for his transfer and queuing it up for the captain’s official approval, he stared at the ceiling wondering if he was doing the right thing.

 

It was tough telling Captain Archer goodbye. It was just as rough saying so long to Malcolm and the folks in engineering. Somehow, he hadn’t ever considered leaving … not until recently. His concentration had been thrown completely out of whack by T’Pol’s “hot” and “cold” attitude ever since they’d been intimate a year ago. When he’d back off, she’d pursued him. When he’d acted interested, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

It was confusing as hell.

Damn, I’ll never get to bed.

Slipping into some clothes, he stopped by the Mess Hall to drown his sorrows in a pecan pie – after all, it was Wednesday night. Chef always had his favorite dessert on Wednesday – maybe because Trip had volunteered to fix a few odds and ends in the kitchen on his days off.

Stuffing a fork full of the treat into his mouth, he saw Shran enter the room. Tucker kept his head down – hoping he wouldn’t be spotted; the last thing he needed was talking to the little blue guy. Unfortunately he made a beeline toward him.

“Commander Tucker.”

Trip gave a sloppy smile – one that had a bit of piecrust stuck to his bottom lip.

“Shran,” he said, after swallowing.

The Andorian sat down and eyed the sugary food. Although Trip didn’t want any company, his mamma raised him to always be friendly and courteous.

“What’s that called?” Shran asked.

“Pecan pie. Highly recommend it.”

Curious antennae scoped it out and the man picked up Tucker’s plate and put it to his nose, sniffing loudly. Recoiling, he threw it back on the table.

“No, thank you.”

Almost disgusted, Trip set down his fork. “Thanks a lot,” he grumbled. “What _do_ your people eat?”

“Raw food. That smells like it’s been processed and _baked_.”

_No accountin’ for taste._

“I like … I think it’s called Susie,” Shran said.

“Sushi.” _Definitely no accountin’ for taste._ “They don’t have anything like that tonight. I think the rawest thing we got is a salad or cookie dough ice cream.”

Antennae perked up at cookie dough ice cream and he marched off to get some. Absent mindedly, Trip resumed eating, having already forgotten Shran snorted at his food. When he came back, and to the engineer’s chagrin he did, he awkwardly picked up a spoon and stabbed the food. Trip decided not to correct him.

“You look sad, human.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just a little blue.” His eyes met the Andorian’s. “No offense.”

“Why are you so upset?” Shran asked.

Unwisely, the engineer said before he could stop his mouth. “I’m transferring.”

“I didn’t expect that,” Shran said. “I thought you and the captain were friends.”

“Always looking for opportunities,” Trip said. A weak, unconvincing smile planted on his face.

“I bet it’s the Vulcan, isn’t it?”

The engineer’s face must’ve revealed everything, because the Andorian gave a sly smile.

“I remember from the meeting the other day. You continued to watch her.”

“Nah, we’re just friends.”

Shran leaned over and disagreed. “You gave her a look I’ve seen before. It was the one Talas gave me before she attacked me – the one before we mated.”

Trip winced.

The Andorian pointed with his spoon. “You two … I know you’ve mated.”

“How did you …?”

“It’s hard to watch her with him, your friend … your commander?”

He remained quiet.

“I heard the Vulcan was married before Archer.”

“She married a guy named Koss. I was at the wedding.”

Shran shook his head. “Ouch.”

_Tell me about it._

“Seems like she continues to hurt you, human,” the Andorian said.

He couldn’t tell Shran this, but no matter the pain, he’d somehow always envisioned he’d be with T’Pol one day. “I suppose.”

“Maybe if you make her jealous, you’ll determine where her true feelings lie.”

Eyes askance, Trip frowned. “I don’t want to come between the captain and his wife.”

“I’m not convinced she loves him. I think she’s deceiving me and Archer.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I think she’s interested in you.”

The engineer shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m telling you, jealousy is an affective way to determine who her true feelings are for.”

_What in the hell is he trying to do anyway?_

“I think you owe it to yourself and Captain Archer to determine her true feelings. That’s all I’m saying. I would think a friend would do that, wouldn’t you?”

His antennae perked up slyly and a grin crossed his face; it made Trip immediately suspicious.

_No way._

Trip brushed a napkin across his lips and flung it down on the table. “I got a few things to do.”

Walking away, he wondered what exactly Shran was up to. _Maybe he just hates T’Pol and doesn’t want to see her with the captain._

* * *

T’Pol was the first to wake. When her eyes opened, she glanced over at Jonathan. The covers had worked themselves to his navel and silently she was thankful they hadn’t fallen lower. Quietly pushing herself off the bed, she crossed the room and retrieved her clothing and then walked into the bathroom to shower.

 

The duty roster had listed both she and the captain had the day off. It would give them plenty of time for another meld. The last one depleted her – drained her enough that she had been concerned about entering Shran’s room yesterday; her mental shields had not been as effective as they normally were, which meant the Aenar might have been able to pick up stray thoughts.

Instead of further considering that, she cleared away those problems and avoided thinking about what happened last night and focused only on how she would approach the meld. As she walked out of the bathroom, dressed in casual clothing (a Vulcan robe) and toweling her hair dry, she noticed Jonathan was already up and clothed – thankfully – making the bed.

Chewing the side of his lip, he looked over and then turned his attention back to the bed.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“Well,” she lied. “And yourself?”

“Just dandy.” With a huff, he threw a pillow on the bed and turned to her.

He is definitely cross.

“So, how am I supposed to act around you? Since you gave me new memories, exactly what is our relationship?”

This, she wasn’t expecting. “I’m your first officer.”

“That’s all?”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends.”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he said. Brushing past her, as if on purpose, he walked to the dresser and retrieved a shirt and a pair of slacks. Stepping toward the bathroom, he hesitated.

“Jonathan?” she asked, grabbing his arm.

“What?” he asked.

“We did this to deceive Shran,” she said. “We did this to save your life.”

Glaring at her, he finally opened his mouth and mentally she prepared herself to be scolded.

“It’s just …,” his expression softened and he stared at the ground. “I’m just very confused, T’Pol.”

“If we begin the meld right away, it might be less confusing,” she whispered. “It will restore your memories.”

Furrowing his brow, as if that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted, he agreed. “I guess it’s for the best.”

“I need to meditate beforehand. Perhaps after you’ve completed your shower?” she asked.

He opened his mouth and she waited for him to speak, but nothing came out. Rather than say anything, he took her hand in his and held it to his clothed chest – directly over his heart.

“I just want you to know how I feel about you won’t change.”

Before she reply, he turned away and headed to the shower. She spent a few minutes staring at the door, wondering if that was really true or if it was a consequence of their meld. Deciding it wasn’t relevant, she sat on the floor, in the lotus position, and freed her mind.

Think about tranquility.

When Archer came out neither exchanged any words, he simply squatted down and sat across from her and folded his legs as he’d done yesterday. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared into his. Placing her fingers on his psi points, she fell quickly into his mind.

Dodging past all the thoughts that swirled around his brain, she burrowed deep into his subconscious. Because she’d had practice, diving into his mind was almost effortless and as a result of having seen the things that troubled him most, she was able to move past those quickly without becoming distracted.

Visuals came to her mind of the process the two had undergone – the ploy she’d used to make Jonathan think they were _truly_ wedded to each other. She started slowly, showing him sitting in her quarters and melding. For a moment, she thought about hiding the information that happened between them last night, but that would be dishonest. So, she recalled those mental pictures as well – without bias – leaving him to interpret the information as he should or could.

And then verbally, she backed up her thoughts.

“The information I planted into your brain yesterday is invalid – the feelings, the moments together … it was all a deception … a ruse. Those moments and feelings, how we spent our honeymoon cradled in each other’s arms, will fall by the way side and you will feel exactly as you did before noon yesterday.”

He was silent.

“Do you understand?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ve only been married for three days, not four.”

“Three days,” he repeated as if being hypnotized.

“And why did we marry?” she asked, testing him.

“So that Jhamel would think we’d been married for four days and hide the fact that we entered a union to fool Shran.”

“Correct,” she said. “That ruse worked. We no longer need to pretend how we feel for each other.”

“No,” he whispered. “I can’t do that.”

“No?” she asked.

Again, a wall worked up between them – an invisible shield that wouldn’t let her penetrate his mind further. Stubbornly, her mind bared down on his and she used her telepathic skills to crumble it. And equally defiant, he fought her every moment of the way.

“Don’t make this difficult. It’s imperative everything is as it was before.”

Still, he wouldn’t give in. Without hurting him, she continued to will the hurdle down and in one final push, she finally felt the barrier between them fall away. Catching her breath, she flung herself into the space he’d been hiding.

Memories, thoughts and dreams floated by like clouds that formed on Mt. Selaya. Although she didn’t want to invade his privacy, almost everything he’d ever thought was available to her mind’s eye and without looking she saw a private moment.

He was sitting on his bed, dressed in his uniform – except for his bare feet – stroking a beagle and whispering to the animal.

“Lorian is Trip’s son,” he said to Porthos.

The dog didn’t return any thoughts, which he was grateful for. It’d been one hell of a day. At least he was there by himself. He liked being alone – the silence, allowing his thoughts and dreams to take over. When he was by himself he didn’t have to make any decisions – especially those he didn’t want to make. Solitude provided him a way to be himself.

The mood felt somber and weary.

_The Expanse must’ve been difficult for him, she thought._

Shaking herself, she veered back toward her task; sidestepping ideas and memories, her voice rang out in the stillness of the room.

“We no longer need to pretend how we feel about each other.”

She worked the thought into his mind, almost forcing him to accept it. “It’s for the best.”

“All right,” he whispered, finally giving in.

“Good.”

While closing the link with him, in his mind he seemed to chant the words she’d left behind – _we no longer need to pretend how we feel about each other. We no longer need to pretend how we feel about each other._

It was odd that idea had difficulty germinating. Opening her eyes, she noticed he was blinking as well.

“Does everything make sense now?” she asked. “The information we discussed.”

Jonathan stuffed a hand through his hair and breathed a long sigh. Shifting his eyes from one side to another, she determined he was remembering the events of the past day.

With a tired voice, he made a few comments that sounded somewhere in between a statement and a question. “Shran and Jhamel were convinced.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think they’ll scan me again.”

“No.”

He nodded. “Three more days.”

“That’s correct.”

Blinking slowly, he whispered to her. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“I can understand your confusion.”

She could tell he wanted to ague, but was tired.

“You blocked some of your thoughts. In order to restore your mind completely, I had to remove that barrier.”

He was quiet.

“You may be weak – humans, from all medical research, have limited telepathic capability. The exercise of throwing a wall between our thoughts must’ve been difficult.”

“I _am_ tired. Humans, huh?”

She decided to be truthful. “I am weary as well.”

“I’m going to take a nap ….”

“I can retire in my quarters,” she suggested.

“You’re here; you might as well stay.”

“Very well.”

She watched Archer stand, teetering a little and then make his way to the bed falling down. Carefully, she walked over and lay on top of the covers facing him.

“I haven’t really been sleeping very well since our … marriage,” he confessed.

She raised an eyebrow. “Nor have I.”

“It’s certainly taken it’s toll on me. I know I’ve been edgy. I’m sorry.”

“I have also been unsettled.”

The two watched each other until she flipped over on her back.

“When you removed that … barrier … in my mind, what did you see?”

“I tried to avoid looking too closely, but I noticed an image in your mind – a reflection of what happened when we met our children, and in your case great-grandchildren, aboard the Enterprise.”

He nodded.

With a hushed voice, she continued. “You were reflecting on my child with Trip.”

She spoke again after several moments. “I’d forgotten how you were in the Expanse. Isolated. Aloof.”

“I know you needed a friend. I’m sorry I wasn’t really there. I’m glad Trip was … well … sorta.”

“You need not apologize. I should’ve been there for you as well.”

“I don’t think I would’ve welcomed that.”

“Why not?”

“T’Pol, I think you should know the reason why I became so distant.”

The Vulcan snuggled the back of her head into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “The mission. I understand.”

“Yes, but not just the mission,” he whispered.

Snapping her head toward him, she wondered what he meant. And then without warning, he propped himself up on one elbow.

With painstaking slowness, he drew a deep breath and averted his eyes. “I was beginning to let my personal feelings for you get in the way.”

“Pardon me?”

“I was letting my friendship for Trip get in the way, too,” he said.

“It’s understandable. We work closely together – all three of us.”

“Right. All three of us.”

Her eyes slipped shut and just as she was on the verge of falling asleep, she heard him speak again.

“No, I mean – everything I said last night … everything … was true, T’Pol.”

Opening her eyes, she noted he was still on his side watching her. “This is probably not appropriate ….”

“No, it’s not appropriate. But, it just seems there’s no longer the need to pretend, so I wanted to get it out.”

‘No longer the need to pretend’? she asked herself quoting him and the statement she made during the meld.

“Jonathan, I think something happened in the meld. I ….”

“I love you. I have for some time.”

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to determine what to say to those words.

“You don’t need to say anything. I know where we stand and I’ve accepted nothing more than friendship will ever happen between us. I’m not sure it can anyway.”

As her mouth opened, his computer beeped from across the room indicating there was an urgent message. Smiling weakly, he got up and crossed the room to view the urgent communication. Bringing the information up on his terminal, he frowned and typed in a few commands.

“What was so urgent?” she asked.

“I just approved Trip’s transfer. He must’ve given a head’s up to Starfleet. They want me to rendezvous with the Columbia at space dock.”

“I can’t believe Trip is leaving,” said the first officer.

Archer stared at his feet. “No, I guess I can’t either. I better give Erika a call and work out the logistics.”

“Erika? You mean Captain Hernandez?”

“Uhm, yes. Maybe you can transport Shran and Jhamel to Andoria.”

“Can these tasks wait for an hour?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Why?”

“As your first officer, I think you should get some sleep.”

“With you?” he asked.

“We’re friends,” she said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean … our track record ….”

Instead of answering, she settled against her pillow. That thought was worth reflecting on, but not right now. What she focused on instead is how both of them needed some rest.

When he didn’t return to bed, she said something succinctly. “Your feelings for me don’t change the fact I care about you.”

Tipping his eyebrow up only slightly, she corrected herself. “As a friend, of course.”

She noticed hesitantly, he joined her side and the two fell asleep next to each other.

TBC

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Archer was cautious of calling Erika while T’Pol was still asleep, but after rustling around the room, seeing she couldn’t be stirred, he decided he’d give it a shot. Punching a few buttons, he brought up a dark-haired woman around forty with a ponytail. He smiled.

“Is this a social call?” she asked.

“No, I heard you finally nabbed my Chief Engineer.”

“We need him, Jon. We’re more than six months behind schedule and it looks like we’ll never get her launched without Commander Tucker’s help.”

“We have other people in Engineering over here that could probably help.”

“He’s the best.”

“Yes he is.” He frowned.

“I know he’s a friend of yours …,” said Erika.

“We could probably be in space dock in a day – around 1700 tomorrow at best speed. Might be good for everyone – my folks could use some shore leave.”

“Tomorrow would be great.” After a pregnant pause, she said, “You know, I half expected you to dawdle getting us Mr. Tucker.”

He shrugged. “As soon as I contact Admiral Gardner with the details, I’ll let you know our ETA.”

“Sounds like a plan. So, are you going to take some time off?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, we’ve got too much to do.”

“No more mountain climbing, huh?” she asked. A smile broke out over her face, as if she was sharing a private joke.

He didn’t return the smile. For some reason, his head turned to note whether T’Pol was awake or asleep. He noticed the Vulcan’s eyes were closed and his voice turned quiet.

“No. Not this time,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have been able to join you anyway. My tactical officer can’t get the weapons online, my science officer’s scanner breaks down almost once a day and my chief physician is still receiving equipment that Dr. Phlox recommended to him.”

He nodded. “Welcome to being a captain. It never stops.”

She agreed. “Hasn’t yet. Listen, Jon, I know you getting us your engineer tomorrow is favor to me. I appreciate it.”

He gave a half-smile. “See you tomorrow.”

As he punched the comm off, he heard a voice behind him.

“Would you like me to relay that order to Travis?” she asked.

Jumping a little, he spun around. “No, not yet. I need to work with the logistics out with Admiral Gardner first.”

T’Pol pushed herself up to sit on the bed and stretched. “I didn’t realize Captain Hernandez was a friend of yours.”

“We’ve worked together before.”

“I see.”

Trying hard not to look guilty, he stuck to work. “Do you want to work with Shran and Jhamel on returning to the surface? When I contact the admiral, he’ll want us to get moving.”

Straightening up, she righted her outfit and sat up. As if part of a routine, she leaned over and made the bed.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Well and yourself?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in about three days.” Smiling more than he intended, he noted her eyebrow raised at him and then flattened his lips.

“I’ll contact the admiral from my Ready Room.”

With that, he left.

* * *

“Absolutely, positively not. No,” Shran said. The Andorian folded his arms across his chest, which was already puffed out, and his antennae remained rigid.

“Enterprise has been recalled to Earth, we cannot take you with us,” she explained for the third time. “A crewman is transferring tomorrow.”

“Yes, _Mr. Tucker_ – I know.” At the words “Tucker” he squinted his eyes and stared at her and she couldn’t help wonder what exactly the Andorian was thinking.

“Then you know you can’t stay aboard.”

“I told you I’d stick around to ensure your marriage is legitimate. You have three more days.”

The Vulcan placed her hands behind her back; it usually meant she was going to resort to logic. And this time was no exception.

“You’ve already scanned the captain’s mind. You seemed satisfied with the results.”

Shran looked at Jhamel and then fixed his gaze back at T’Pol. “I have other evidence I’m investigating.”

The Vulcan peaked one eyebrow into her bangs. “And what would that be?”

Glaring at her, he gave a look of disgust. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

It caused the other eyebrow to shoot into her bangs and confusion to set over her features.

Jhamel spoke up. “T’Pol, I felt some of your thoughts. Shran believes ….”

The Andorian interrupted her with surprising tenderness. “It’s confidential. According to paragraph ….”

The Vulcan knew he would rely on Andorian law to see her marriage through and she was reticent to deny him.

_Obviously, I’ll have to speak with Jona … the captain about this._

“Very well,” she said. As she turned to leave, the Andorian said something to her back that seemed ominous.

“I’ve got my eye on you, Vulcan.”

Ignoring his remark, she headed out the door. Briskly walking down the corridor, she took a small detour and went back to her room. Heading over to her computer, she typed in a few commands and Archer’s image appeared on her monitor.

“Shran refuses to leave.”

“What!” Archer asked.

“He wants to ensure we’re married … and apparently he’s willing to be here three more days to verify it.”

“I thought you said the meld worked?”

T’Pol gave a near frown. “It did. Jhamel was able to determine some of my … feelings, which caused Shran’s concern.”

The remark made both feel uncomfortable and she couldn’t help but notice both looked away from the monitor. Archer was the first one to speak.

“Admiral Gardner would never wait for three days. And I’m … hesitant to debrief him about our marriage.”

“Agreed,” she said.

With something that she may’ve called anger, he delivered a sentence that sounded threatening. “I’ll talk with Shran.”

* * *

Archer marched into Shran’s room and looked around; it was hard to contain his anger. The Andorian was stubborn, egotistical and often made matters more complicated than he needed to. And yet despite all these things, Archer had to begrudgingly admit, he liked the guy.

“Pink skin, I know what you’re going to say, but I’m not budging. It’s within my right to stay aboard Enterprise until one week.”

It caused the captain to get in Shran’s personal space. Glaring, his retort was pointed. “I don’t give a damned about Andorian law. You and Jhamel are going down to Andoria – and that’s final.”

“Archer ….”

“You’ll be at the transporter in one hour, even if I have to drag your ass down there.”

The blue man’s antennae pointed forward and Shran took a step closer to Archer. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” he asked sarcastically.

Jhamel stood up and took Shran by the hand. “Captain, we don’t wish to cause trouble ….”

Archer’s scowl snapped back toward Shran as she continued. “But, this fight and your marriage are meaningful to Shran. He wants to ensure Talas’ request for vengeance has been fulfilled and … he’s concerned about you.”

After she spoke, the Andorian softened. “Pink skin, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but … I think your wife may be cheating on you.”

The captain tried not to laugh, especially since the Andorian looked so earnest.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’d better sit down,” Shran said.

Furrowing his brow, he sighed and eventually sat on the bunk. “All right.”

“I talked with Tucker. He’s definitely in love with your Vulcan.”

He looked toward the ground. Although he suspected that was the case, he hadn’t been sure; T’Pol’s comment about where they’d left the relationship was vague. And for some reason, he’d wanted it to stay that way.

“Worse … she slept with him,” Shran added.

Coughing into his hand, he tried to figure out exactly how to respond. “I know they had a relationship in the past. But, that was the past.”

“Jhamel thinks the Vulcan’s is confused about her feelings.”

Restraining a long sigh, he glanced at the ground and then back up at Shran.

“You think she still has feelings for him?” Archer asked, not really interested in the answer.

The Andorian nodded and Jhamel spoke. “I’m not sure what she was feeling other than confused. Shran seems to think her confusion is about Commander Tucker.”

Archer stood. “Well, whatever it is – that business is between … my wife and me.”

Shran shook his head. “There’s a subparagraph to 14. If your wife shows interest in someone else, your marriage can be called into question and you can be executed, Archer. Do you have that much faith in your wife?”

Coldly, the captain stared into Shran’s eyes. “I know she’s not sleeping with him.”

The Andorian frowned and his antennae sagged for a moment. Walking calmly over to the bookshelf in his room, he pulled out a copy of what must’ve been Andorian law regarding challenges. It was brown and tattered with age. On the front was the Andorian Guard insignia with a weapon of some work, kinda like a pike. Flipping through the sections he read from paragraph 14.

“If the combatant’s spouse or combatant is unfaithful in any way, including granak, utul, kegag, dranar or glet, the combatant will be executed.”

Archer’s eyes turned to Jhamel for some reason for help in the words that didn’t make sense.

“Let’s just say that list includes holding hands, what you would call kissing and runs the gambit to copulation,” Shran said.

_Andorian culture is bizarre._ “T’Pol won’t do any of that.”

“I hope for your sake, you’re right. Regardless, we can’t leave. I’m going to stay here the amount of time you’re required to be married under Andorian law: one week. You have three more days.”

Archer sighed. _In for a penny, in for a pound; we’ve already committed to this much to honor Andorian tradition. And it appears there’s no convincing him._

With a slight sneer, the captain spoke. “All right. But, stay out of the way! The first complaint I hear about you, Shran, and I’m tossing you in the brig.”

“But, Captain, according to ….”

“I don’t care!”

Turning on his heel, he walked brusquely out as if to prove he meant business. As he rounded the first corner, he wondered if there was some truth to what Jhamel felt. T’Pol and Trip’s relationship had always been confusing. It was hard to believe something had gone on between the two of them; they spent the majority of their time at each other’s throats. He knew they liked each other and the teasing was usually good-natured, but there were times when it seemed like all out warfare.

_Maybe it just seemed that way. Damnit._

Walking into his Ready Room, he contacted Admiral Garnder who wanted, as he predicted, best speed to Earth. Afterward, he contacted the Bridge and relayed the order, asking for ETA and then provided that information to Captain Hernandez. By the time everything was done, it was already 1400 hours.

_So much for a day off._ Musing about everything that had happened, he headed back to his room to continue reading the book. It was awful, but like a shuttle car accident, somehow he wanted to see what happened.

* * *

Trip tried to forget Shran’s words – “make the Vulcan jealous” – but it was difficult. He couldn’t help thinking that’s how he’d won the woman in the first place. What may’ve put him over the edge how Corporal Cole had spanked him on the rear end in practice; that made the tips of T’Pol’s ears greener than a palm tree leaf in Key West. Yeah, she was mad.

_Forget it. Things are over. It’s best just to think about the Columbia._

Stuffing a few shirts into a duffle bag, he began to pack things away – his shirts, pants … everything but Lizzie’s picture, which he decided was the last thing to go. While putting away personal belongings, he thought about all the trinkets he had collected over the years. Compared to Malcolm, who managed to collect anything and everything from any planet they’d ever been to, he only had a few things of any real significance.

He’d kept the desert sand from the planet he’d almost died on, but didn’t thanks to the captain. When on Vulcan, he got a lava rock – they didn’t sell it in the gift shop (Vulcans don’t believe in tourist shopping), but he could just pick one up, so he did.

_Lot of memories._

As much as he loved the engines aboard Enterprise and although it sounded corny, it was true – he loved the people even the fresh-faced kids who’d joined Enterprise after they came back from the Expanse.

After packing up the bulk of his belongings, he studied two padds that held the name of which crewmen he would recommend was promoted to Chief Engineer in his absence. First, he stared at Hess’ information.

She was a good engineer – always had been. The woman could take anything apart and put it back together. A little rough around the edges, she wasn’t exactly a people pleaser. Occasionally when the captain had barked an order, she’d snarled a few quips back … always out of hearing range for the captain, but not him. Although he’d gotten on her about it before, he’d come to realize she was just that way – she’d say pretty much whatever was on her mind the moment it came to her. In that way, she was an awful lot like Trip Tucker himself.

Then there was Kelby.

Kelby was younger, but more eager. The guy always had a smile on his face and tried as hard as possible _all the time_. He’d been the one who’d worked around the clock until they found what would be considered the remains of Taylor – and cried like a baby when he did. The kid wasn’t as good with the engines, but knew how to motivate people. That was a skill few engineers had and inspiring others was more important sometimes than being the expert.

Sighing, Trip decided the captain would get along better with Kelby and so made the decision. As he was about to start typing up the recommendation, his door chimed.

“In here sulking, I see,” said the Brit on the other end of the door.

“Hey, Mal. What do you want?”

“Captain Archer gave the order to head back to Earth. I was hoping you’d eventually change your mind, but I see you haven’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Trip, you’ll get over how you feel about Commander T’Pol. I mean, I’ve seen bothered over Natalie, the girls from Risa, ….”

“Nah, this is different. You wouldn’t understand.”

The little Englishmen made his way over to a chair, tossing a duffle bag to the floor. “Ruby.”

“Huh?”

“Ruby. Can you believe I was daft enough to think I’d marry her?”

Trip smiled. “I thought you were a real Casanova – not the marrying type?”

“Well, I was. She was the only one I really cared for. After I proposed to her, she threw me over for some other man. I remember I was heart broken, but … I eventually got over it.”

“That’s just it. T’Pol and I had a relationship a year ago. Ever since then … well, I just … I’ve been thinking about her.”

Malcolm frowned. “I didn’t know you had it that bad.”

Trip shrugged. Hoping to add a little levity to the situation, he told Reed about what Shran had suggested. “Can you believe Shran told me I should make T’Pol jealous?”

“As if a Vulcan would ever show jealousy,” Reed joked. And then his face contorted. “Didn’t you say that’s how your relationship began?”

Trip gave a silent head bob.

“Well, then it’s a bloody brilliant idea.”

“She and the captain are married.”

“I think it’s obvious they married so that Archer wouldn’t have to fight Shran to the death.”

Trip’s head fell against his chest and he weighed whether to tell his buddy about what he witnessed. Finally, he glanced up and made the tactical officer swear on Lord Nelson’s life he’d never tell another living soul about what he saw.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Malcolm said.

“I’m serious, Mal.”

“I promise. Good Lord just spit it out.”

“I saw both of them doing the … tango.”

“Not possible.”

“Nah, I’m serious about this one.”

“How in the hell did you see it anyway?”

“Their door chime was broken. I saw Shran popping in and out a lot, so I entered thinking something might be wrong. The two of them were under the covers and … let’s just say I heard _noises_.”

“Come off it.”

“I’m not kiddin’.”

“Well, I talked to Hoshi the other day. Apparently they’ve been pretending to be intimate to fool Shran. Those two would never ….” He began to laugh.

“What I heard sounded like the real McCoy.”

“No offense, mate, but you haven’t exactly had a lot of practice hearing those sounds lately.”

Trip’s face fell. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Trust me. They’re been under a lot of pressure from Shran to continue to pretend like they’re married. Hoshi said the Andorian enters their cabin about once a night.”

“How’d Hoshi know?”

“She gave the man the codes, at Commander T’Pol’s request, and keeps a log of entries.”

Trip frowned. _Maybe I made the wrong decision._

“I think Commander Shran’s idea of making her jealous is actually quite good.”

Trip shrugged. “I don’t know, Mal.”

Reed’s lips turned down. “At any rate, I stopped by to tell you we should be at your new home at 1800 hours tomorrow. If you’re not still moping in your room, you might want to stop by at 1500 before you leave. Some people are throwing a party for you.”

Ending the conversation, Malcolm stood up and walked out the door. The engineer turned back to his computer to enter the recommended promotion and think over everything.

* * *

Archer flipped the 260th page, deciding the book was actually getting worse. It was bad, but it helped him _occasionally_ avoid thinking about everything – how T’Pol felt about Trip, whether Trip was leaving Enterprise because of T’Pol and how the hell he’d managed to get himself into this fiasco. As his eyes moved onto page 261, T’Pol walked in.

“I was wondering if you were going to sleep here tonight,” he said. It felt awkward to mention it, but it was the truth.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” she said. It sounded like she felt equally ill at ease about the situation.

Silence rang out between them and he thought momentarily about going back to his book.

“I take it your meeting didn’t go well with Shran?” she asked.

He sighed and put the book down. “No.”

“I’m sorry my feelings put us in jeopardy. I knew my mental shields were battered.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Did they discuss what they gleaned with you?”

He thought about telling her he didn’t know, but then thought the truth might actually help her avoid becoming ensnared in the situation they assumed was already happening – not that Archer thought she’d sleep with Trip.

“They think you’re harboring feelings for Trip.”

An eyebrow raised. “What makes them say that?”

“Jhamel picked up … confusion. And apparently Shran talked with Trip and he thinks Trip’s leaving Enterprise because of you. Both of those things led him to believe you and Trip are running around together.”

The Vulcan seemingly staggered for a moment and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you think that’s the case?”

“Which one?” he asked.

“Do you think Trip is leaving Enterprise because of me?”

Glancing out the window at the stars, he shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He gave a half-hearted smile and looked back toward her. “For the record, I don’t think you’re … running around with Trip.”

T’Pol nodded. “No. We haven’t … run around … for some time.”

Although the comment made him a little embarrassed – mostly that they’d “run around at all” – he was happy that she understood innuendos these days.

“Shran quoted the subparagraphs of 14 to me.”

She nodded. “If you’re concerned that I’ll show some sign of affection to Commander Tucker, you have nothing to worry about.”

Without really acknowledging that, he decided to change the subject. “Trip recommended Lt. Commander Kelby become our new chief engineer.”

“Kelby? I was certain he’d promoted Lt. Commander Hess.”

“What’s your opinion?” he asked.

“Lt. Commander Hess is a superior engineer. She has more years of training and expertise.”

“Trip said she was rough around the edges … as if we’d argue.”

“You and Commander Tucker argue.”

Archer smiled. “I think he believes the two of us would argue more.”

“You _do_ like things your way.”

As if caught, he put his head to his chest. “I guess so.”

“Lt. Commander Kelby is more congenial. He’s also more likely to follow orders.”

“So, you’d select Hess?”

“Yes. Although you like things your way, I think you value disagreement … even if you don’t recognize it immediately.”

Giving a chuckle, he quietly agreed with her. “I’ll take your recommendation under advisement. Did you work out the shore leave schedule for tomorrow?”

“Yes, there’s a skeleton crew assigned to Enterprise.”

“Where am I on that list?”

“I overheard your comment to Captain Hernandez and took it to mean you didn’t have time to take a small vacation.”

He sat up. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were awake.”

“You and she went mountain climbing back on Earth?”

His eyes fell to the bed. “Yeah. I wanted to go alone, but she tagged along after me. In the end I was kinda grateful she did.”

“Just the two of you.”

“That’s right.”

After a long pause, he asked. “Something wrong?”

“It’s really none of my business.”

Wrinkles sported along his brow; he had a feeling what was coming. “Go ahead.”

“Were the two of you ….?”

He nodded and then looked away.

“As recently as ….?”

He’d wanted to explain he’d, to use Trip’s words, “had one heck of a dry spell,” but somehow doubted he could do that with a straight face, without getting embarrassed or that she would really understand. So, going with economy of words, he answered her question.

“Yes.”

Surprise jumped onto her face and then she contorted it back to being nonplussed. “I see.”

_That sounded like jealousy._

“Perhaps I should arrange the duty roster so that you have a chance to see her?”

He sighed. “Our relationship isn’t really like that. I mean ….”

Searching for the right words, he stared at the Vulcan whose eyes were wide, waiting for some kind of answer.

Leaning forward a little and shifting positions, he explained. “It was kind of a one-time thing.”

“A ‘one-time thing’? You and she had sexual relations only once?”

_No._ “I meant, it’s not something either of us want to continue. She was helping me out through a difficult time.”

“Helping?”

“Yeah. Because I was hurting, she wanted to help me.”

“Help you? Through sex?”

“It’s complicated.” His brows knitted together. “Didn’t you say you and Trip had that same understanding?”

An eyebrow sprang up at the question, which she declined to answer.

“Listen, if you’re wondering why I would do that knowing how I felt about you …,” he began.

“We have a friendship. Nothing more. Who you have relations with doesn’t concern me.”

His lips compressed.

“I find it ironic that so soon after Rajiin ….”

He interrupted her, angrily. “I didn’t do anything with her.”

“You asked her to dinner alone – without Trip and me.”

“I thought you’d be busy with neuropressure.”

“I doubt that’s the case.”

He heaved a deep breath and worked himself out of the bed. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

She looked unconvinced.

“All right, T’Pol, if you must know – it’d been four years … four _very_ long and very lonely years before I decided to sleep with anyone. And I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t had to stomach rumors about you and Trip for an entire year.”

The Vulcan’s jaw dropped and he continued, already whipped into a frenzy. Beginning to pace around the room, his voice echoed off the deck plating and steel walls.

“Don’t sit there and look at me … judging me … as if I’ve done something wrong! I wasn’t out there screwing around with someone under my command!”

“No, but apparently you wanted to.”

Stopping in his tracks, he wheeled around and glared at her. “What the hell did you just say to me?”

“I think you heard me.”

Marching over to stand in front of her, all out of comebacks, his face turned red and his breathing grew more erratic. Turning steely, he leveled what his pals in the Academy used to call his death glare. Just as he opened his mouth, the door opened behind him.

Archer spun around. “What the ….!”

Shran interrupted. “Doorbell doesn’t work and you didn’t hear me knock. Did I come at a bad time?”

“Yes!” Archer yelled.

“No,” T’Pol said, getting up. Sticking her nose into the air, she passed by the Andorian and strolled out.

When the door slid shut behind her, Shran shook his head. “I knew this Tucker business was bad news. She left you, didn’t she?”

Archer put his hands on his hips and his voice growled. “No, we’re just having a disagreement. And it’s not about Trip.”

“Sounded like a fight to me.”

The captain rolled his eyes.

“What’s it about?” Shran asked.

“It’s none of your damned business.”

“I knew it was Trip.”

Archer snorted. “I didn’t tell T’Pol about a … relationship I had earlier this year. I suppose I should’ve.”

The Andorian’s antennae crinkled as he winced.

“Let’s go get a drink. Maybe I can help you sort this out.”

TBC

 


	11. Chapter 11

Archer sat across from Shran thinking this was an awful idea as a blue man poured Andorian ale and instructed the captain how to drink it.

“You have to swallow it whole. Sipping is what Andorian children do.”

Following the directions, Archer threw it back and felt his esophagus and stomach burn.

“Strong,” he said, catching his breath. By the taste alone, he was guessing this more than 13 alcohol content.

“Isn’t that why people drink alcohol – to feel it’s effects?” Shran asked.

Archer shrugged. _Good point._ So he held up his glass for another round and the Andorian was happy to comply.

“Who is this woman you had relations with? Your communications officer? I think her name is … Sato? She’s a good looking woman.”

_Hoshi!_ Archer shook his head vehemently. “No. You don’t know her.”

“Oh?”

“Just another woman – not aboard Enterprise.” He felt like the Andorian was digging, which made him suspicious.

Shran grumbled under his breath. “Well, the Vulcan certainly has you and Commander Tucker ensnared.”

Archer threw down the concoction and put his glass out. “I don’t think you’d understand.”

Shran shrugged. “What’s not to understand – she’s attractive … even for a Vulcan. She’s female. You work with her closely ….”

“No, I mean there’s more,” Archer said.

A curious pair of antennae waited for the captain to continue. In a rare moment of weakness, the man decided to confess a few things.

“Do Andorians believe that everyone has someone who they’re destined to be with – kismet? Someone who’s kinda reserved just for them?”

Shran raised his eyebrows. “Andorians laugh at fate – there is no such thing; we create our own destiny. You mean humans believe in fate?”

Archer eyed his glass. “Not all humans and not all the time. I guess, I just ... I have that feeling that I was destined to be with her. It’s hard to explain ….”

The Andorian poured two more glasses and encouraged him to speak. “I’m listening, pink skin.”

“I mean … I’ve had women turn me down and I’ve ended relationships. None of them ever felt quite … complete. I always felt as if I was waiting for one woman. The right one.”

“Andorians would never believe such fantasies. You are born, you mate, sometimes you have offspring and then you die.”

“Sounds like a rough life.”

“We have long life spans, Captain, but, very few of my species live to a ripe old age. Andorians live hard and we enjoy it.”

Archer mused on those words and gulped the ale.

Shran was quick to fill Archer’s glass and followed up on the human’s feelings. “Well, if you think your Vulcan is the _one_ , then I’m glad you married her.”

_Oh right._

“So, when she found out about this other woman in your past, she became angry?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s your _past_. I would think she’d be _logical_ enough to know that, especially if you've accepted hers – ex-husbands and ex-lovers.”

_Can’t disagree with him there._

“Well, it’s obvious she’s in love with you. Why else would she care?”

_I don’t know._

Shran then added. “Although, I can’t figure out how Commander Tucker fits into this now.”

“No, I can’t either.”

Shran raised his white brows. “So, you admit your Vulcan might be interested in him?”

“I don’t think so.” After shoving down his fourth drink, his lips became looser than he would’ve wanted. “She’d never show Trip affection if she thought it meant I could be killed … even if she’d wanted to.”

At saying, “even if she’d wanted to” his heart sank a little. Shran set his glass down heavily as Archer wondered why he’d divulged that.

“You’re in a predicament, my friend,” the Andorian said.

“Maybe I should just see her and explain it all,” Archer offered up.

Shran shook his head. “Noooo. That’s weakness. The Vulcan will never allow you to mate with her again.”

The captain furrowed his brow.

Shran continued. “Women demand strength. Because women are stronger ... at least Andorian women ... you must bluff them into thinking you’re the superior gender.”

“I don’t think really either gender is superior.”

“Humans,” said Shran. After decanting more ale for both of them, he sat down with a thud. “Although Jhamel seems to like sensitivity. I never thought I’d care for that in a woman.”

“You two are …?”

Shran hung his head down ever so slightly and his antennae curled in timidity.

“No. You might laugh at me, but … I don’t want to take advantage of her. She’s young, naïve and needs a shoulder to cry on. I’d hate to erode her trust that with rude behavior.”

“I’m not laughing,” Archer reassured.

“We’ve slept together, but there’s never been anything untoward.”

“I understand.” _More than you think._

“Women are confusing – no matter if they’re blue, pink or green.”

Archer gave a low chuckle and a sigh. “I agree.”

“So, what are you going to do about your Vulcan?”

“ _T’Pol,_ ” he corrected Shran.

“That’s the one.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think she’ll contact Tucker,” Shran said.

“What do you mean?”

“Your engineer is leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe she’d want to see him before he goes. Sometimes goodbyes turn into sex. I’ve said _goodbye_ to a few women before.”

Becoming a little huffy, he snapped. “I said she’s not like that.”

The Andorian frowned, his antennae drooping. “Pink skin, I hope I’m wrong. I’d hate to execute a man with a broken heart.”

As Archer lifted the glass to his lips, he stewed on that information.

* * *

T’Pol was in her room, sitting on her bed wondering about everything that had occurred.

_I let myself become angry, she admitted._

That wasn’t like her. Normally, she would be neutral to information provided her, but somehow what she’d learned about the short relationship he had with Captain Hernandez _bothered_ her. A lot.

With a near frown, she tried to get a handle on her emotions.

Drawing her legs up to her, she thought about the accusation he’d leveled at her – the one about “screwing” around with officers that reported to her. She’d been agitated because it was _true_. The commander was handsome, sweet, caring and available. They’d both needed someone to turn to – physically, mentally and emotionally – and he’d been there with open arms. Jonathan wasn’t available; in fact in the Expanse he was never available. At the time, she assumed he hadn’t wanted anything to do with anyone, but finding out he’d cared about her made her feel guiltier about her liaison with Trip.

_It’s happened. There is nothing I can do, or would want to do, about the past._

_And Jonathan can’t do anything about his – the past, with Captain Hernandez has already happened._

If he was willing to accept her past; she would have to accept his … even if she would find discomfort meeting or working with the captain of the Columbia.

Deciding to get some sleep, she changed into a pair of pajamas she kept in the drawer and laid down in her own bed. It felt large and she missed the gentle rumbling that whistled through Jonathan’s nose on a nightly basis. Although it kept her up, along with her feelings, it sounded peaceful and serene. When she heard that noise, she knew he was sleeping soundly – and somehow that comforted her.

After attempting to meditate, without success, trying to read more of the Kir’Shara, without success and hoping to at least get some work done, without success, she eventually decided to lie down and stare at the ceiling hoping to feel drowsy. Only five minutes into the futile exercise, she received a welcome distraction as the door chimed. Sliding on her robe, she answered the door.

_It must be Jonathan._

Restraining her surprise, she looked at the Aenar. “Jhamel?”

“I know you wish we’d been returned to the surface earlier today; I do, too. I also wanted to say I’m sorry for gathering a few of your feelings. Shran told me how private Vulcans are.”

T’Pol waved her hand and offered the young woman to enter. She noted how carefully the woman sat on the end of the bed – although she was blind, she managed to work out the lay of the room well.

“I’ve known Shran for four years. It’s difficult to reason with him.”

The Aenar smiled sweetly, obviously enamored with the Andorian.

T’Pol sat next to her. “And, you’re a powerful telepath. I doubt you were able to avoid my thoughts.”

“But, I shouldn’t have told him.”

The Vulcan looked down at the floor for a few minutes.

“I know one of the things that concerned you when I picked up thoughts from your mind. You wondered if he really did care about you.”

An eyebrow tipped at the comment. And before she could actually question it, Jhamel spoke again.

“He does.”

“I know,” T’Pol said.

“And you care about him.”

“Of course. He’s my husband.”

Hesitating for a few minutes, the young woman spoke. “I don’t believe Commander Tucker has anything to do with your confusion.”

“No. I tried to explain that Shran.”

“You’re right; it’s difficult to reason with him.”

T’Pol was silent.

“I think I understand what your confusion is ….”

“Oh?” the Vulcan asked.

“You say you care about your husband, and I believe you do. But … something inside of you questions that feeling.”

“It’s complicated. Vulcans do not share their feelings with others. We find emotions … distasteful.”

“I think that’s part of it.”

“I assure you. That is it in its entirety.”

The Aenar gave a little frown. “I don’t know very much about Vulcans, but I would think if you loved him you would accept that especially since you married him.”

A knot formed between the Vulcan’s brows.

“Sometimes relationships are simple if you allow them to be,” Jhamel said.

“You’ve come to talk me into ‘accepting’ my emotions?”

“No. When the captain came by earlier, I was able to see some of his thoughts. I felt _deception_ again without reading his mind. I believe I understand what that is.”

The Vulcan’s eyes widened.

“I think you _did_ marry because of the challenge.”

T’Pol was quiet, working through the best way to negate it or explain it away.

“I couldn’t tell Shran. I’ve come to understand that despite his need for revenge, he doesn’t want to kill the captain. He considers him a friend. And, strangely, the captain considers him one as well.”

“It was my idea,” T’Pol said. “I married the captain without his knowledge.”

“Why?”

“Shran is more skilled at combat; it was evident he’d kill Captain Archer.”

“You married him to protect him?”

“Yes.”

“The two of you have pretended to be married ever since.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve lived with him and slept with him merely to fool Shran.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes. I don’t want Captain Archer to die.”

“It’s odd that you two should be in love and be married, but you deny those feelings and deny sharing it with him.”

The Vulcan stood, ready to end the conversation. “Vulcans do not feel love.”

Acting as if she’d offended the Vulcan, the Aenar pouted. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not going to tell Shran? He’d kill Jonathan, and I can’t allow that to happen.” She’d leveled the statement as somewhere between a request and a threat.

“I don’t want Shran to be imprisoned. I know if Shran found out, you’d call security and put him in a cell until we reached Andoria.” Before T'Pol could say anything, the young woman spoke. "I don't need to be a telepath to know that."

T’Pol didn’t reply.

Jhamel said, “I think we’re at an impasse.”

T’Pol nodded. _Logical._

“Shran is growing more suspicious. Perhaps, even though Vulcans don’t feel love, you can pretend to.”

Standing, the Aenar produced a peculiar smile and headed out the door. Considering her options, T’Pol thought maybe she’d return to Archer’s room to show the Andorian that she, although fighting, was still married to Archer and supported him.

Without thinking about the comments Jhamel made, she gathered a few items and prepared herself mentally to being with Jonathan again. Undoubtedly the man would still be angry or emotional. It was best she rid herself of emotion before rejoining him and slipping into the covers next to his warm body.

Fixing her robe about her, T’Pol was about to walk out when her door chimed.

Sliding it open, she saw the very last person she’d expected to pay her a visit today.

“Trip?”

* * *

He stared at the Vulcan with something like affection – after all, she was in her robe – and then let his face fall. This wasn’t that kind of visit; he had other things in mind.

“I thought you might be up this late and I took a chance of you being here.”

“What do you need?”

“God, T’Pol, I hate to ask you this, but … I’ve been having trouble sleeping for a few days and I have Engineering duty tomorrow. Right afterward I transfer to the Columbia.”

That had been mostly true. There was a smidgen of his request that wanted the woman just to touch him and give him the opportunity to talk with her again before he left.

The Vulcan, allowed him to enter and crossed her arms. “Trip ….”

“I promise, that’s it. Just a little neuropressure and I won’t bother you.”

T’Pol shot her eyes to the floor, obviously considering.

“Just think – you won’t have to ever provide it to me again.”

That seemed to change her mind.

“All right. Remove your shirt and shoes, and sit down on the bed.”

Relieved he’d finally catch a few winks, he hurried out of the clothes she’d asked him to take off and headed for her bed. As he lay down, he remembered how cool her sheets were and how icy her hands were on his back. It was something he’d missed for months.

_Funny, I never thought I’d miss it._

“Ya know, I think we made a pretty good team you and me.”

T’Pol seemed to keep her thoughts to herself.

“You and I … we figured out how to destroy the spheres together, created the telepresence and came up with Lorian.”

“Lorian was in another reality. Not the one we currently live in.”

“It seemed like the past to me.”

Her hands left his back and he could tell she was becoming uncomfortable, so he changed the subject.

“Gonna be at the party tomorrow night? Mal told me you were the only one who hadn’t sent in your acceptance.”

She placed her hands along his spine and pushed. Suddenly, his eyes felt droopy. Stifling a yawn, he continued.

“Gonna be a heck of a shindig. My mom gave Chef a recipe for key lime pie that’ll blow you out of the water. And, I know how you like desserts.”

“I am on duty during that time. I’m unsure I should leave the Bridge. I know Captain Archer would like to attend your party ….”

He frowned. “Well, I was kinda hoping you would. Hell, even Captain Hernandez will be there.”

“What?” the Vulcan asked.

“You know, my new CO as of 1700 hours tomorrow. Cap’n suggested I invite her and get to know her.”

Suddenly the woman became silent.

As her fingers pressed into a sensitive region, he moaned. “That’s the one … right there.”

Spending a few minutes working that area, he couldn’t help releasing a deep sigh.

“I think perhaps you feel better?” she asked.

Trip nodded. “Can I return the favor?”

He saw the Vulcan hesitate, as if weighing her options. The woman had dark green circles under her eyes and look like she hadn’t slept well in about a week. Just as he felt like she was about to accept, she declined.

“No, thank you.”

“You didn’t use to mind before.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t need it.”

Trip nodded. “It’s Captain Archer, isn’t it?”

“It’s no one. I don’t require it tonight.”

He slipped on his shoes and she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to know I care about you, Trip. I wish you wouldn’t leave for the Columbia.”

His jaw dropped. _This is the most caring she’s ever been._

“You’ve, after all this time, become a valued friend.”

He smiled. “I appreciate that. I care about you, too.”

The moment he felt like he might try to put his lips on hers, she continued.

“A relationship … a sexual one … is out of the question, but friendship is not.”

His smile slid down along his face. “You might change your mind. We’ve dancing around each other for a year. You even told me you and Koss hadn’t ….”

“We’ve relied on each other, helped each other …. You’re important to me, I cannot deny that and doing so would be illogical. But, we can only be friends.”

“If I’m so important to you and you don’t mind touching my bare shoulder,” he said, looking over to see her hand still there, “then are you sure you want to be just friends? I think … helping each other is probably what made me fall in love with you.”

Slowly, she removed her hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That was not my intention.”

“I noticed you didn’t answer my question.”

“I believe I already have.”

With a huff, he grabbed his shirt and headed for the door. As he walked out, he put it on and headed down the corridor thinking maybe Shran and Mal were right.

_She needs a little convincing._

* * *

Archer and Shran stumbled down the corridor and the captain had to admit, he felt a little better. Of course, he wasn’t sure if it was the fact he was drunk or whether the Andorian managed to cheer him up. As the two were about to part ways and call it a night, Trip walked out of T’Pol’s room, putting his shirt on, and headed down to the opposite end of the corridor toward his room. It was clear the engineer didn’t see the two, but it was obvious both men saw him.

Shran’s head whipped around to the captain. “I told you to watch her like a greel!”

“There’s gotta be some explanation ….”

The Andorian looked at his watch. “What explanation? It’s 0217 the night before he transfers to another ship. They were lovers and he’s still infatuated with her.”

“T’Pol wouldn’t ….”

“She must’ve thrown you over, pink skin.”

“No ….”

“It looks like Tucker said _goodbye_ after all. Maybe he said _goodbye_ a few times; we’ve been drinking for a while.”

Archer snarled. “Shut up.”

The Andorian gave an enormous frown and stared at Archer who’d hung his head to his chest in defeat.

“Do you want to decide your time for execution now?” Shran asked.

Archer suddenly jerked his head up. “No. T’Pol would never betray me.”

“Seems like the Vulcan just did.”

“We don’t know for sure ….”

As the two argued outside in the hall about what to do, T’Pol emerged wearing a robe and carrying a small bag of items. Giving a flick of the brow, she stared at the two men.

“Jonathan, I was about to head to our room.”

“Were you?” he asked.

The two stared at each other silently.

Shran said, “We saw Commander Tucker leave your room just now.”

The Vulcan’s eyes fled to Archer, who suddenly had eyes planted firmly at his feet.

“Jonathan, I would never ….”

Suddenly the human became agitated and walked away, ignoring her comment. Shran shook his head.

“I provided Commander Tucker neuropressure. That is all. You can ask him.”

“I’ve never heard of that and I’ve been studying up on your species for sometime,” he said.

“It’s a Vulcan art where you tap along the nervous system to induce sleep.”

“Bare skin? How convenient.”

“It’s a medical treatment.”

He shook his head. “Touching him like that means you’ve violated Andorian law and means I have to kill your husband.”

“No. I’ve indicated it is a medical procedure. You can ask Dr. Phlox.”

_Vulcans._ Shaking his head in disgust, he decided to throw a quip at her. “I hope you’re happy, you just signed Archer’s death warrant.”

As he turned away, she grabbed his arm. “Don’t do this. I want a chance to explain.”

He tried to shrug off her arm, which forced her to grab tighter. “I want a chance to explain!”

His antennae reared back and he stared the logical creature in the eyes.

Shran’s lip curled. “All right. Come to my room tomorrow morning at 1000 so that Jhamel can scan your mind.”

She seemed to sigh in relief until he warned her. “And this time you’ll have to let down your shields!”

She agreed and let his arm go. As he turned down the hall, he looked directly at her.

“Vulcan, you broke his heart.” With that, he marched down the hall feeling that the Vulcan was left with the one thing he knew she felt: guilt.

* * *

_Betrayed._ It was the one word that chanted in his mind and resonated there. Stubbornly, he paced around his room wondering silently what really happened. The Andorian had him completely convinced, despite his own ability to reason, that T’Pol was in love with Trip.

I guess I can understand. I guess.

They’d had a relationship in the Expanse, T’Pol admitted as much. Trip had given her lost puppy dog stares for months and the engineer was always a hit with women.

Everything would’ve been easier if he’d just fought Shran. _Everything_ would’ve been easier. He wouldn’t have had to share close quarters with T’Pol; he wouldn’t have admitted his feelings; and as silly as it sounded he wouldn’t have had put his heart out to be stomped on.

_Fuck it._

It’s usually when he was most hurt than he resorted to what he’d heard through the rumor mill his crew call – Airlock Archer. It was the guy who remained aloof and untouchable, barked orders and ignored any pain or suffering hurled in his direction. Numb.

_Maybe it’s just the alcohol._

When he’d finished changing for bed, washing his face, smearing on his face cream and brushing his teeth, he stumbled over to his bed and climbed in. After pressing a button to darken the room he stared out the window instead of lying down.

The door opened and closed.

“Jonathan?”

He knew who it was.

“I think we’re beyond trying to make Shran believe we’re married,” he said to the window.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t really care.”

“He came to me for neuropressure.”

“How nice of you to oblige him,” he said sarcastically.

“Trip said he hasn’t been sleeping well for days. I think he probably hasn’t been sleeping for weeks.”

_He’s not the only one._

He could hear her approach the bed, which made him fidget with discomfort.

“I would never do anything to cause your execution.”

That, he did know. But, somewhere deep down he thought her hormones got the better of her and that she was careless.

After more than a minute of silence, he wondered whether she was still there until she spoke.

“Jhamel already knows.”

He turned his head enough for her to hear him clearly without looking at her. “Is that why you had a rendezvous with Trip?”

Satisfied, he stared back out the window. Expecting to hear her footsteps march to the door, he was startled when she sat on the bed.

“We weren’t intimate.” Pausing for a few seconds, she clarified. “I would never to anything to hurt you.”

_Too late._ Ignoring her, he continued to look out the window at the stars rushing past and the ones that stayed fixed in the distance; it was soothing.

She gave the faintest of sighs. Reaching her hand on his arm, she urged him to discuss things.

“I want to know what’s on your mind,” she said – even using an idiom. “Don’t continue to shun me.”

She must not have known that no one holds a grudge like Jonathan Archer.

“You’re not going to say anything?” she asked.

In a sadistic way, he was pleased he was testing her Vulcan patience. Finally, he spoke using the voice he reserved for captain – not the one he frequently used with her alone.

“We have a long day tomorrow. I suggest we both get our rest,” he said.

Stiffening a little, she responded in kind.

“I meet with Shran and Jhamel tomorrow at 1000. The commander suggested she scan my mind.”

“Didn’t you say she knows?” he asked.

“Yes, but … I believe I should for Shran’s benefit. The Aenar and I have come to an … understanding. I know she will continue with the ruse.”

“Fine.” Somehow, he doubted he would be executed. For some reason he didn’t think the Andorian would actually perform the feat.

A few more moments passed, until T’Pol broke the stillness. “Jonathan, look at me.”

Stubbornly, he stared at the window, wondering when she’d leave.

“Please,” she asked. When he didn’t comply she took her fingers to his face and turned his chin. As he looked at her, her hand fell away.

Her eyes were sad and she’d come as close to frowning as he’d probably seen in some time. It was why he softened.

“You’ve been trying to tell me for days how you feel, but I wasn’t listening. I guess I’ve been wrapped up in playing a part – being your husband – that I hadn’t been just fooling Shran, I’ve been deceiving myself.”

When she didn’t reply, he took it for more than just confirmation.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I know it wasn’t easy living with a human … with me.”

Her mouth opened by centimeters and he waited for her to speak, but when sound didn’t come out, he decided to continue.

“I’m not sure how Vulcans become divorced, but … I’ll need to call my attorney tomorrow night.” Trying to inject a bit of humor, he smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me suing for alimony.”

He gathered she understood the joke, but she ignored it.

“Since we weren’t married by a priest and no bond has formed, there is nothing that is required of me,” she said.

The remnants of Surak’s katra provided only the most basic details of a bond, but enabled him to understand how she would end the marriage.

“Right,” he said. “We can divorce at 2300?”

“Yes,” she said. “That was the time of our wedding.”

"Fine. You can collect your things tomorrow night if you want.”

“Very well. Perhaps after the farewell party?”

“Why not,” he said.

Getting up and tucking her robe closer to her, she stared at him a little longer. “Good night.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Turning his head back to the window, he continued to stare out long after the door closed.

TBC

 


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning when she appeared on the Bridge, things seemed … different. It was 0800 and Archer was already on the Bridge, seated as if he’d been there for hours.

Immediately, the captain began to conduct business. “Good morning. Travis gave me a revised estimate of the ETA to space dock. Thanks to Trip’s handiwork, we should rendezvous with the Columbia a little before schedule. I already notified Captain Hernandez.”

“Very well,” she said. Her hands folded behind her back.

“I sent you information about Chief Engineer, Commander Kelby. I’d like you to debrief with him as soon as possible. And, I’d like you to arrange a senior staff meeting to discuss the chain of command by 1300.”

_He promoted Kelby._ “Of course.”

“Good,” he said, shifting in his chair.

_He seems … normal, if not a little overzealous._

The Vulcan slid into her workstation and stared into the scanner. She had two hours to complete her duties before going to Shran’s room and being scanned by Jhamel. It meant she could accomplish a few things she’d been wanting to take care of.

As Archer walked into his Ready Room, she heard a question.

“So, what’s the deal with him and Hernandez?” Hoshi asked, quietly.

“Pardon me?” T’Pol asked.

“He’s been chatting it up off and on for the past two hours with her.”

“Captain Archer?” T’Pol asked. “He came in at 0600 this morning?”

“No, 0500.”

_That was odd._

“So, are they …?” Hoshi asked.

The Vulcan stared into her scanner. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” Hoshi said, disappointedly. “Just curious.”

T’Pol’s mouth twitched and she leaned back over to complete her work. As her fingers traveled over the wheel on the side of the equipment, she heard the communications officer mumble under her breath.

“She’s calling him again?” she said.

“Who’s calling again?”

“Captain Hernandez.”

“It’s probably ship’s business.”

“I guess,” said the woman.

T’Pol’s eyebrows furrowed and she leaned forward to take the same reading she’d been trying to take at least twice before. As soon she’d logged what was on long-range sensors, the captain came out of his Ready Room wearing something like a smile.

Crossing the deck, he walked over to T’Pol and nodded back to his office; it was his way of saying he wanted to talk. Somehow in the years of working with him, she knew what a simple head nod meant. Standing she followed him into his small room.

When the door closed, he began to pace, ducking under beams.

“About shore leave,” Archer said.

“Yes?”

“I’d like you to add me to the list.”

The Vulcan quipped a brow. “Oh? That wasn’t your original request. You indicated you had too much to do.”

“I do have too much to do,” he admitted. “But, I’d like you to squeeze me in.”

“Something came up?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s personal.”

“How much time do you need?”

“I’d like to have a day.”

“Will you require a shuttle to arrive at your destination?”

“No, I’ll be hitching a ride.”

Her gaze was questioning and he answered her unasked question.

“A shuttle from the Columbia can pick me up,” he said.

“I see,” she said. After waiting as long as possible, she queried him. “When would you like to leave?”

“2400.”

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s one hour after our divorce.”

He gave an ironic smile. “I’m sure it’ll be nice to have me out of your hair.”

Perplexed the Vulcan watched him as he asked another question. “Do you think my request is possible?”

Her eyes scanned the PADD. “It will be difficult. The first round of crewmembers leave at 2000. I had already ….”

Without waiting for her to finish, he peaked over her shoulder at the information and pointed to it.

“Looks like only 10 people will be gone then … no one from the Bridge … looks like it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll make my arrangements then.”

With that, he climbed behind his desk and tapped his fingers along the keyboard. When thirty seconds passed, he put his eyes back on her – obviously confused why she was still standing there.

“Is there anything else?”

_Yes._ She stiffened. “No.”

“Dismissed.”

Wanting to give a confused frown, she restrained and instead wandered out of his office – back to her station.

Hoshi shook her head. “There they go again. He’s calling Captain Hernandez.”

The Vulcan blinked quickly and then stared back into her scanner.

_I must log the rest of my data._ She’s already forgotten some of it was entered.

* * *

Jhamel wasn’t sure why Shran was going through with this. The Aenar could tell even if the Vulcan had mated with Commander Tucker that the Andorian wouldn’t execute Archer. She didn’t have to read his mind to know it, the notion hovered around him and caused him to worry almost all night. Instead of wrapping his arms around her and holding her as he’d done every other night, he’d fidgeted in bed.

 

Despite this, she understood the man well enough to know he’d push everything until the very last possible point and then back down. In other words, he’d come close to executing Archer, but wouldn’t follow though with it.

_I need to diffuse the situation._

Promptly at 1000 the door chimed and Shran answered the door with contempt.

“Enter Vulcan,” Shran said.

Although Jhamel couldn’t see, T’Pol seemed nervous about this; the woman’s emotions were in disarray and she understood that having her mind read would only make things worse. Much worse.

“I want you to know Archer’s life hangs in the balance based on what Jhamel feels,” Shran said.

T’Pol said, “I understand.”

Directing the Vulcan, Jhamel said, “I need you to lower your mental shields and permit me to look into your mind. I promise not to embarrass or disturb you.”

Jhamel closed her eyes and tried to project a few thoughts. _T’Pol, I won’t invade your mind. It’s best we act like I’m scanning your mind._

T’Pol nodded.

Jhamel thought, _Can you hear me?_

The Vulcan didn’t answer. Instead, she felt T’Pol’s defenses fall away and immediately the Aenar gasped. Raw emotions were exposed and she could sense T’Pol’s embarrassment at them.

There was fear. T’Pol was frightened about the procedure and Archer’s life. She was tired – weary – because she hadn’t slept at all last night. Rather than slumber, she’d stayed awake wondering, worrying, how the captain felt. Sadness. The depression is what bothered Jhamel; it had such a feeling of weariness and loneliness.

Startled, the Aenar spoke. “You’re unhappy.”

The Vulcan remained still.

And then another wave of emotions radiated from the Vulcan. T’Pol was also angry that she’d been accused of something that was untrue. Just as she’d said, Commander Tucker came to her and asked for neuropressure, a Vulcan art that aided in many things – including sleep. Because she and the commander were friends and because she’d never see him again, she wanted to help him.

“She’s telling the truth, Shran.”

Just as Jhamel was hoping to end everything, she felt one more emotion … it was something that was difficult to identify. It was uncomfortable and alone, lurking in the shadows and recesses of her mind, hoping to never be unveiled.

“It’s love or something very close to it,” Jhamel said aloud to help the Vulcan determine the feeling.

“You _do_ care for him,” the Aenar said. _I thought you did._

Jhamel could feel the Andorian’s antennae become erect in anger. “Tucker?”

The blind woman closed her eyes and finished the scan. Staring off into what she assumed was T’Pol’s direction, she hoped the Vulcan would speak up.

Hesitantly, with a hoarse voice, T’Pol responded. “No.”

“No what, Vulcan?”

Jhamel waited and felt the Vulcan stand.

“I have to return to my post. We’ll be arriving in space dock earlier than expected – 1500 hours.”

“Just in time for the party,” Shran said.

“You’re going as well?” T’Pol asked.

“Isn’t everyone? You should know, better than anyone, that Commander Tucker is a popular man.”

Jhamel gave an awkward smile. Sometimes the Andorian was rather obtuse. She mostly liked that about him.

“I have duties to perform,” T’Pol stated again.

“Will we see you there?” Jhamel asked.

“I haven’t decided,” T’Pol said, walking away.

As the door slid closed behind her, Shran turned to her and began pacing again.

“Poor, Archer. Well, his life may be spared, but his heart sure as hell won’t. For some reason he’s crazy over that Vulcan.”

Stopping him, she reached her hand around his arm. “You don’t think T’Pol returns his feelings?”

“You heard her answer,” he said. His voice took on a sweet quality, something that he’d reserved for only her.

“I heard her answer. Did you?” she asked.

“You mean she cares for him?”

Jhamel slid her hand along the Andorian’s face and allowed one of her wild antennae to touch his.

“I know you’ve been hesitant because of Talas ….”

She could tell the memory stirred something in him. “I didn’t want to push you because of your brother,” he whispered.

“Then, you feel as I do?” she asked.

“I don’t know ….”

Interrupting his doubt, she pressed her lips to his. Although she’d heard that Andorians bite their mates (and other things that are more barbaric), her people touched lips. Surprisingly, he was tender and continued the embrace.

When they parted, he spoke softly to her. “You’re so young.”

Smiling, she led him carefully over to the bed. “We have some time before the celebration tonight.”

“Andorian men never make the first move,” he said. Although his words had a seductive quality, she could tell he was being truthful.

He was about to explain more, when she pushed him firmly to the bed.

“Aenar women rarely do,” she said and then joined him there.

* * *

Hoshi and Malcolm had arranged everything beautifully. Country music, some of Trip’s favorite, ambled mildly in the background and Chef had prepared a litany of culinary delights – Southern style. Archer had never seen so much fried food in his life in one location. It was a heart attack waiting to happen: fried okra, fried potatoes, fried catfish, fried chicken, fried steak (know as chicken fried steak) – it was a lard festival.

 

The place was packed. Although a skeleton crew was selected to mind the ship during the party, even they stopped in to wish the engineer well. It was like the guy was a celebrity bidding his audience a fond farewell.

Trip threw his arm around the captain and smiled. “Helluva party. Kinda sad I gotta give notice to get it.”

The captain gave a mild chuckle. “Well, if you didn’t leave at all, I think the celebration would be even better.”

Quiet broke out between the two. With a frown, Archer asked a question. “So, are you happy you’re leaving?”

Tucker looked down at his feet. “I wouldn’t say … happy.”

The captain nodded wanting to follow up on that thought when the engineer interrupted him.

“Will you look at that.”

Archer turned around and saw a timid T’Pol step through the portal.

_Probably here to say more_ goodbyes, _he thought_.

Rather than give into the bad mood, he kept a fake smile on his face.

“Commander T’Pol. I thought you weren’t going to be here?”

“I came to inform you that Captain Hernandez’s shuttle will dock in less than ten minutes.”

Trip smiled, baiting her. “You couldn’t have used the comm?”

“I attempted to. I’m sure it’s difficult to hear a page because of the music and atmosphere.”

“I sure as hell didn’t here any page. I think you wanted to come down.”

Her eyebrow became annoyed. “Don’t be absurd.”

Trip laughed, stuffing a fork full of catfish into his mouth and smiled playfully.

“Do you have someone in Launch Bay to receive her?” Archer asked. _It’s a wonder these two had a relationship._

Turning her attention back to the captain, she agreed. “I planned on welcoming her myself.”

“I don’t want to take your time away from Trip.” _Since you want to be with him so much._ “I’ll greet her and bring her back.”

The Southerner gave a more beaming smile as the Vulcan opened her mouth. Ignoring her, he walked off to get Erika.

* * *

She turned her head to Trip and he smiled again.

 

“I appreciate you accepted my invitation. I was hoping you would,” Trip said.

As he was about to follow up the comment with something more personal, the Vulcan’s attention waned.

“Excuse me,” she said.

As the engineer stared off after her strolling over to a couple of crewmen, Lt. Reed came up behind him.

“I see she decided to come,” he said. The sound of his voice had a bit of giddiness to it.

“Yeah.”

“I think that bodes well for you. If she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t be here.”

_Mal had a point._ “But, she’s not talking to me,” Trip said.

“Well, those two looked like they were headed for a fight. I was about to go over there myself and talk with them.” Reed was nodding in the direction of Kelby and Hess.

“A fight?”

“An argument. Hess and Kelby, from what Hoshi tells me, had a relationship.”

Trip threw his hand out, denying it. “No way. Nothing happens in my engine room without me knowing about it.”

Reed laughed. “Aren’t you the last person to squash feelings between coworkers?”

The man furrowed his brow and stuck out his lower lip in response. “That’s different.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I think they’ll get over things, but after what happened in the Expanse, can you blame your team for turning to each other? Engineering lost the most people.”

Trip hung his head. “I know.”

“Everything should be fine between the two … just a lover’s quarrel about who got the job, I suppose,” Reed said.

The Southerner frowned, still unable to believe that the 35 year-old Hess and the 27-year old Kelby had a fling or something more serious. The two seemed like such an odd couple. He shrugged his shoulders – anything was possible – as Malcolm brought up something else.

“Did you decide to make T’Pol jealous? I think that’s just the coaxing she needs to confess her feelings for you.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone aboard Enterprise that I’d want to … _use_ like that.”

“You wouldn’t be using them. I mean, all you’d really need to do was pay them attention.”

The engineer shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What about Corporal Cole?” Reed asked.

The glee in the tactical officer’s voice didn’t escape Trip, who frowned at the idea. Besides, he’d heard through the grapevine that the woman was interested in Dr. Phlox, as bizarre as that sounded.

“No,” Trip answered.

Suddenly the two looked up and noticed a few folks from the Columbia piling aboard. Because the soiree was off-hours, so to speak, nearly everyone wore their civilian clothes. As one brunette entered the facility, Reed gave his friend a poke in the ribs.

“Check her out.”

Trip shot his eyebrows up and smiled. “Pretty. Little older ….”

“T’Pol is 66; I always figured you liked the experience,” Reed shot back.

Following the group was the captain, who seemed in charge of them. As he entered, Shran walked over to ask him a question and the guests meandered to the buffet table contained all the goodies.

Trip took that as his opportunity to meet new people. “Anything I can help you with?”

The one that Reed pointed out, swung her ponytail as she whipped her head. “What’s this?”

Trip smiled. “My favorite. Key lime pie.”

The woman scooped a piece onto a plate and shoved a fork full into her mouth.

“I haven’t had a good slice of this since my mother used to make some. This is absolutely delicious.”

“Where you from?” asked the southerner.

“Florida.”

“No kidding! Whereabouts?”

“Miami.”

“Panama City.”

“Small world,” she said.

“Trip,” he said, extending his hand.

Shaking it, she gave a beaming smile. “Erika.”

“That name sounds familiar,” he said.

As he was about to turn to Malcolm to ask where he’d heard it before, he noticed the tactical officer was gone. Giving a small sigh, he turned back to her as she gave an explanation.

“I’m Columbia’s captain – although since this is a social event, I was hoping to travel under the radar.”

Trip’s mouth hung open and he stiffened a little. “I’m Commander Tucker, you’re new chief engineer.”

She grinned in response. “So, that’s where I heard your name before. You’re a friend of Jon’s.”

_Jon?_ “Yes, ma’am.”

“Let’s drop the formality, shall we? After all, this is a celebration.”

Nervously, he nodded, but was unsure what to do next. He noticed the captain take control of the situation and nudge him gently.

“You know what goes well with key lime pie?” she asked.

Trip produced a lopsided smile and told her what he thought. “Catfish?”

She giggled. “No, no. My mother fixed a Cuban dish with this – yucca fritters. Had them?”

“No, can’t say that I have.”

The woman’s attention focused across the room as Archer continued to talk with the Andorian about some problem that seemed to have the two engaged.

“He never liked them.”

Trip’s head followed her line of sight to Archer. “Oh?” he asked.

“I guess one should never judge a person by his eating habits.”

Trip laughed. “My mom used to say that.”

She grinned. “So did mine.”

A moment of silence drifted between the two, and for a second Tucker thought maybe they were compatible and sharing a moment … it made him a little antsy, wanting T’Pol to see it.

“Well, I can say I used to love this little café off the water called Guzman's’.”

Erika touched his arm. “My uncle was the owner.”

“Small world,” he said.

Erika’s eyes flitted back to him. “Sure is.”

As he leaned over, putting his hand on the buffet table with her – he realized a couple of things. Erika’s eyes continued to follow Archer’s movements and the captain occasionally glanced in their direction.

“Something going on between you and my CO?” the engineer asked. He knew it took a lot of gall, but was hoping the woman would appreciate honesty. Luckily, he was right about her.

Acting as if she decided to give in, she nodded her head to a vacant corner of the room. As the two walked there, she gave him the low down.

“I’ve been crazy about Jon for years. I know we don’t exactly make an ideal couple, but ….”

Trip smirked. He knew very little about his captain’s private or social life, but recognized one thing: the guy was _private_ with a capital P

“You don’t know where you stand with him,” Trip chimed in. Just when Erika was about to open her mouth, most likely questioning him where he got the inside scoop, he shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve been there myself. In love with a woman, private and emotionless, that I just can’t figure out.”

“Sounds like Jon alright,” Erika remarked.

Trip opened his mouth to explain when Archer walked to the two, interrupting their conversation.

“I still can’t believe you’re getting one of my best officers.”

Captain Hernandez grinned. “I can. I’ve been trying to get him for almost a year. His work on the warp 5 engine is legendary.”

Archer frowned. “What did you bribe him with? I see a promotion isn’t in the deal.”

Trip deflected the comment. “Sir, let’s just say I needed a few new challenges.”

T’Pol returned and folded her arms neatly across her chest. “This is Captain Hernandez?”

_Interesting she finally noticed I was talking with her._ “Sure is. My new CO.”

Hernandez held out a hand and the Vulcan reacted coolly. “My species is uncomfortable shaking hands.”

Erika agreed. “Of course. My apologies.”

Archer finally introduced her. “This is T’Pol, my first officer.”

Erika smiled. “Commander, I’ve heard a lot about you. Jon raved about you when I saw him last. You sound like the epitome of what a first officer should be – loyal, devoted and intelligent.”

The Vulcan bowed only slightly. “I appreciate that comment.”

“I would’ve asked Starfleet to transfer you, too, if I didn’t think Jon would have my head on a pike.”

With that comment, the captain gave a mild grumbling laugh. “Well, you almost had that with Trip’s transfer.”

T’Pol barely touched his arm and asked to speak with the captain for a moment, which left the two of them alone for a second.

“Is that the woman you were talking about?” Erika asked.

“How’d you know?”

Shaking her head and looking toward the ground, she made a confession. “Trip, I’m 43 years-old. I know a little about what love looks like.”

Instead of answering, he looked at his feet.

“I hope she’s not the reason you’re leaving for the Columbia?” she asked.

Without answering, he continued to stare downward.

“Love and Starfleet don’t exactly mix.”

Quietly, he agreed. “I know.”

“Jon didn’t finish taking me on a tour … would you mind?” she asked.

Glancing up, he looked into her dark eyes. Trip was a sucker for exotic looking women. Erika, with her dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin was foreign. Dressed in a long, flowing garment that reminded him of a combination between and sari and a pantsuit, he couldn’t help think she looked beguiling. He dipped toward her for a moment taking in her coconut drenched skin – probably some lotion – and then beamed at the Latina.

“My pleasure.”

* * *

As usual, the captain didn’t like what Shran said just moments before in the Mess Hall.

 

“Watch her like a greel, pink skin,” he said. “This is when Tucker will make his last move. And although your Vulcan hasn’t been with him in the Zenarian sense, she may tonight.”

_As Archer tried to shrug him off, the Andorian seemed more intent. “I know you love her. Just don’t do anything foolish.”_

_At those words, he sighed._ I already have, he thought. _“Just stay out of trouble,” Archer said, warning the blue man to keep to himself._

_Archer was about to walk off and rejoin Erika, when Shran decided to bring up another painful wound._

_“That woman is the one T’Pol was angry about?”_

_The captain’s eyes darted to Shran’s, and he wondered how the Andorian could’ve known._

_“Pink skin, you’re about as obvious as a Ritan dran. You’re watching her with eyes pondering what could happen between you two now, as if you were lovers many years ago.”_

_He denied it. Although he’d surmised she was attractive and the blue she was wearing showed off her skin and eyes, he was more concerned about Trip … and how the two seemed to be gazing at each other._

_“The rules about an affair apply to the combatant, too.”_

_Whipping around, shooting his gaze down his nose at the Andorian, he contested the accusation._

_“I know. You don’t have anything to worry about. I was involved with her in the past, but not now.”_

_When his boot took the first step forward, he heard Shran’s ominous words. “Even touching hands can get you killed.”_

_Ignoring the remark, he continued forward._

For some reason, he thought about Shran’s words just as his first officer led him to a secluded part of the room. The Vulcan’s eyes were wide and her voice was softer than usual. It made him think she was nervous for some reason.

“Kelby and Hess were about to have an argument.”

Archer waited for her to reveal what she clearly thought was the worst of the news. “All right?”

“I believe Kelby and Hess have been or are romantically involved.”

The captain rolled his eyes. _How many couples did I not know about?_

“Perhaps we can discuss this in your Ready Room,” she suggested.

He weighed the comment. “Have they worked everything out?”

Hesitating, she finally answered. “I believe for the short term, yes.”

He shrugged. “Then, maybe I can address it when I get back from my vacation. After all, having a little time to reflect on things is good for everyone.”

“Very well,” she agreed, hesitantly.

He knew that nod and timbre in her voice. It meant she didn’t agree, but didn’t want to argue. Ignoring the need to shut off his emotions, he decided to reveal a few to her; he tried not to think about the poignant way these emotions applied to him.

“T’Pol, even humans find emotions confusing … and we’ve had practice with them all our lives. Love, fear, trust … these things elude us on a daily basis.”

As she remained silent, he progressed. “Having time to think about how they feel about the situation and each other might actually help.”

She spoke so quietly, he had to strain himself to hear. “I take it you gave Captain Hernandez a tour?”

Archer narrowed his eyes. “Not really. After all, Columbia looks almost exactly like Enterprise.”

“I see.”

Because of everything that happened between the two of them, he stood in discomfited silence waiting for her to leave. To disrupt the hush that broke out between them, he looked over in Erika’s direction.

“If you don’t need me for anything else …,” he said.

Without answering, she turned her eyes to the ground.

“Yes?” he asked, sensing there was another question.

She stared up and blinked several times at him. For a moment, he thought he could see something … and then it flickered out of existence.

“No,” she said.

Nodding, he gave her one last look and then walked over to Erika and Trip, catching them at the door.

“Where are you going?” Captain Archer asked.

Trip shrugged as Erika spoke up. “Mr. Tucker was going to take me on a tour of your ship.”

Archer produced a frown. “Oh?”

Erika took a sip of her wine and then gazed back at the captain. “You looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I didn’t know you wanted a tour,” Archer said. Straightening his uniform, he offered up his services. “I’d be happy to show you around. After all, I’d hate for Trip to leave his own party.”

The captain noticed the engineer’s eyes flitted over to T’Pol, whom Archer had to turn around to see. With that, he opened the door for Erika and led her out, denying Trip’s protests.

As the two stepped across the threshold, Erika said, “Captain, I’m feeling a bit out of place. I hope you change.”

The captain agreed quietly. “I think I can slip into something more comfortable.”

* * *

The Vulcan watched Jonathan leave with Erika after what seemed like shooing Tucker away from the task. And it didn’t take Vulcan hearing to notice he offered to change for Erika – and used a euphemism that meant the changing could lead to something more intimate.

 

The captain is off duty until 2400 hours tomorrow. He’s taking a shuttle with her. Logic dictates he wants to rekindle their relationship.

T’Pol’s eyes lowered and she imagined the man to be happy showing his friend the one who’d gotten him ‘through a rough patch’ Enterprise. The visual bothered her, mostly because she imagined them making a small detour to his room where she’d most likely assist him through another rough patch.

“You’re still dressed for work. I thought maybe you’d put on something more casual,” Trip said.

The engineer woke her from something like a daydream, almost startling her.

“I didn’t have time,” she said.

“Still, I’m glad you came. And it looks like we finally have an opportunity to talk.”

Leaning into her ear, he whispered, tickling her sensitive skin. “Let’s talk in private,” he said.

Working his hand around her thin bicep, he guided her to an area secluded from everyone – the Captain’s Mess.

“What do you think of Erika?” he whispered.

Unnerved, she could barely answer. “A competent captain.”

“I think she’s beautiful.”

The Vulcan waited for something else, but when no other opinion was offered, she blinked in irritation. “If you say so.”

“Sounds like you don’t like her,” Trip said.

“There is nothing to like or dislike. I do not know her.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

She almost restrained from rolling her eyes, but decided to do so – showing the human how illogical he was being.

“You’ve been jealous before,” he said.

That was when I was taking trellium.

Trip continued. “Let’s stop playing games. I think we know exactly what’s going on with you. You’re in love. You just refuse to admit it.”

Her brows knitted together.

“Shran and Malcolm they’re right about you,” he said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered.

“I know being Vulcan and all, admitting to emotion is tough. But, hell, I know you feel it.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It only takes a few words for everything to work out.”

Instead of dismissing him immediately, she waited for his advice. After looking into his eyes and waiting for a response, Trip closed in on her and pressed his mouth to hers.

The action took her completely by surprise. When he backed away and brushed his thumb across her cheek, he whispered a few words to her.

“Since you won’t say it, I will. I love you, too.”

Breaking away, she looked into Trip’s eyes. “Trip ….”

As he was about to speak, she decided to answer all his questions. “I’m not in love with you. I’m a Vulcan.”

Silencing his unsaid words, as his mouth continued to try and say something, she clarified other points.

“I care about you deeply, as a friend. We’ve shared many personal moments together and have relied on each other in the past. However, I feel nothing more than friendship.”

“Listen …,” he began.

“Trip, you mean a great deal to me. Vulcans have few friends and you have earned my trust and my respect. But, I do not return your feelings ….”

“Then, you’re in love with someone else?” he asked.

“Vulcans do not experience love.”

“T’Pol, humans call attraction, caring and commitment ingredients of love. You have these for me?”

The woman thought about it. “Yes, I’m attracted to you. I care for you. But, I don’t feel commitment.”

“Then … you feel it for the cap’n?”

She went quiet.

Trip’s face fell and he had to ask. “You’re attracted to him?”

“Yes.”

“You care about him?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And commitment?”

“Very much.”

“Damn.”

“I apologize. I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Looking like a scolded dog, his head hung down and his lips hung toward his chin. The Vulcan reached up to touch his cheek and gave it a small caress.

“I want you to know you’ll always be important to me.”

Trip nodded glumly. “Just not the most important.”

In another odd display, she reached her hands around him for a hug, which she gathered he needed. As she placed her head on his shoulder uncomfortably, the door shot open. Without turning, she could hear Trip intake a sharp breath.

“What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you know you should ring the door chime!”

“You’ve violated the law, Vulcan. The pink skin is going to have to forfeit his life.”

Turning, she stared the blue man in the eye. “It’s not what you think.”

With that, Shran gave a decided frown and walked out.

* * *

The entire spin around the ship took about forty-five minutes. Most of the things he’d normally explain to tourists, Erika had already known. She knew the maximum warp speed – 5.2. She knew what powered Enterprise, what the after-effects of warp felt like, how refuse was handled … she had already garnered every single piece of information he had to share. So, mostly, he was going through the motions.

 

On their way back to the Mess Hall, Erika reminded him about his choice in garments. As she pointed to his coveralls, she smiled.

“You said you’d change.”

Glancing down at his apparel, he gave a quick nod. “So I did.”

Walking into his room, she stepped in behind him. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the candles around his room and silently hoped she wouldn’t ask about them. He was disappointed.

“Jon, I didn’t realize you were into candles. I suppose you’re going to tell me you enjoy long bubble baths, too?”

Furrowing his brow, he grabbed a few things from his closet and headed for the bathroom. When the door slid shut behind him, he fabricated a lie.

“I like to meditate and … it adds a certain ambiance to the place.”

“ _Vulcan_ candles?” she asked.

Wincing, he stared at the closed door. “Long story.”

“I’ve got some time,” she said.

Immediately, he attempted diversion. “Glad you were able to come with some of your crew. And thanks for offering to give me a lift to Earth.”

“You never said what you wanted to do there. You gonna tell me?”

After fastening the last button of his white shirt, he stepped out of the bathroom. “I just need a break.”

Inching closer to him, she retorted. “Like when you returned from the Expanse?”

“No. It’s different,” he whispered.

“You really have a knack for closing yourself off. You ask me, as a favor, to take you to Earth at precisely 2400 at night. During the entire tour, you seem distracted and a little on edge ….”

He glanced down at the ground.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked.

He shook his head. Not only was it not appropriate for a captain to reveal his feelings for a first officer, he figured it was less apropos for a guy to tell his ex-girlfriend about them.

“Everything’s fine.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Don’t push it, Erika.”

“Jon, I feel like you’re trying to tell me something, and I don’t have enough time to try and needle it out.”

Although the remark sounded harsh, she caressed his cheek to show her concern.

Closing his eyes, he remembered how she’d reached out to him when no one else could or would. The gesture must’ve made an impact, because her hand stroked his cheek.

“Maybe when you head back to Earth, I can join you,” she said.

His eyes opened slowly. “You told me you had science and tactical stations to repair.”

“I think I can afford one day away.” Grabbing her fingers around his collar, she drew him to her and placed her lips on his.

At first, he reveled in the feeling and then something, like guilt, sank into his stomach and he broke away from her.

“We’re missing the party,” he whispered. He knew it was an awkward thing to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

“If you’re worried about two captains …?”

Shuffling his feet, he shook his head. “No. No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time alone.”

She folded her arms over her chest and sighed. “Jonathan Archer, we’ve been friends for a long time. I know when something’s bothering you.”

“Then maybe you know when I don’t want to talk about it.” _Actually, that’s never stopped her before._

“It’s a woman?”

“Drop it,” he said.

“Does it have something to do with the Vulcan candles?” she asked, batting her eyes.

“No.” With that, he walked over to the door and opened it, holding his hand I front so she’d walk through the portal.

“I guess this means we’re finished talking?” she asked.

Somehow, he got the idea she was beginning to piece things together, especially when she whispered her last comment.

“I thought you didn’t become involved with people under your command,” she said.

Without answering, he shot her a look of warning and finally, she let the comments go and discussed a few arrangements about Trip’s transfer.

As they headed back into the Mess Hall, Shran pointed at Archer.

“What time do you want to schedule your execution?”

“What!” he asked.

“What’s this about?” Erika asked.

Shran explained. “The pink skin’s wife was with Mr. Tucker. And they violated Andorian law. I’m sorry to break your heart, pink skin.”

"Wife?" Erika asked.

As Columbia's captain stared back at Archer, he offered quietly. “It’s part of the long story.”

TBC

 


	13. Chapter 13

Archer stared at Shran waiting for more information. With discomfort, T’Pol appeared behind the blue man offering a silent apology.

_The gig was bound to be up at some point, the captain thought._ Staring at his watch, he just couldn’t believe how close they’d come to pulling it off.

Jhamel looked into the room blindly and offered a few words. “Shran, I don’t think this is wise.”

Shran’s antennae hung down with sadness. “Probably not, but … his wife violated Andorian law and I saw her.”

Trip shook his head. “It wasn’t what you think.”

Shran countered and then shot his eyes toward Archer. “I’m sorry, pink skin. I’ll come collect you tomorrow at 0600. You should make peace with whichever god you hold dear.”

As the Andorian walked out with the Aenar on his arm, Archer couldn’t help but sag his shoulders and think perhaps fate had caught up with him. Ducking and dodging the law, he’d managed to squeak by so many times that he knew even he was pushing destiny.

_I guess this is finally it._

His Southern friend ambled over to him and placed a weary hand on his back.

“Cap’n, I didn’t know.”

Hesitantly, Archer agreed. “I know.”

Erika placed her hands on her hips. “What the hell is going on?”

An explanation escaped the captain. The moment that something that sounded logical or reasonable lighted his brain and he opened his mouth, T’Pol spoke up.

“I married the captain to save him from fighting Shran to the death.”

“Married?”

Archer’s hand pushed through his short-cropped hair. “Well, sorta.”

“You’re married?” Erika asked.

“Quite. And legally,” Phlox offered from across the room.

At Archer’s glare, the Denobulan went back to the crab puffs.

Erika gave a frown. “How long have you been married?”

“Nearly one week,” T’Pol said. “Long enough for Captain Archer to avoid being executed … until now.”

“Why will he be executed?” Erika asked.

Trip sighed loudly. “T’Pol hugged me.”

Archer’s eyebrows raised warily, waiting for his friends to divulge more information.

When T’Pol didn’t speak, the engineer finally said something. “It was a hug between friends, but … I suppose she couldn’t touch me.”

The Vulcan clasped her hands behind her back. “Andorian law is quite specific. We’ve been following it for, roughly, the past week. According to a subsection, it indicated I should not have touched Commander Tucker. Captain, I take the accountability; it’s my fault.”

He shrugged. _Pointless to be upset now._

“I’m sorry,” she added, quietly.

Erika, her eyes wide and her eyes darting back and forth from all the speakers, finally said something.

“So, because Commander Tucker’s not your husband, Jon can be sentenced to death?”

“Yes,” T’Pol admitted.

“Is this what the Vulcan candles were about?” Erika asked to Archer.

“According to Andorian law, she’s been living with me,” Archer said.

“Living with you?” she asked.

“Living with me,” he said.

“We’re friends,” T’Pol murmured.

“Right,” Archer agreed, almost disappointedly as Tucker mimicked the words more sarcastically.

Archer watched Erika take a good long look at Tucker, T’Pol and then himself. Just as he was about to offer more information, she leaned over.

“I’m not about to let a fellow Starfleet captain get murdered.”

“Rica,” he said, using a nickname he hadn’t in years, “it’s not that easy. I accepted Shran’s challenge to help the Andorian save face and support Starfleet. I can’t back down … not now.”

“Captain, what if we speak to Jhamel?” T’Pol said.

“She knows about our situation,” Archer commented as if remembering.

“Yes. And she also realizes the actions I will take if anything happens to you.” The moment she felt his eyes peruse her, she specified things. “As your first officer, of course.”

The man produced a weak smile. “No. This has gone on long enough. I’ll talk to Shran and tell him everything.”

“You can’t do that,” T’Pol said.

Staring into her eyes, he made a flippant, but potent comment. “Sure I can. I’m the captain.”

Before anyone else could chime in, he headed out the door. And almost equally as quickly, T’Pol flew to his heel to try and stop him.

* * *

Erika was no stranger to weird shit happening for unexplainable reasons. Her aunt, who’d helped raise her, was the kookiest woman in North Miami. She’d chart auras, provide advice she claimed was delivered from a psychic and read tarot cards. Actually, Erika always liked that about her aunt Maria – it made her different.

 

But, this business about Jon marrying a Vulcan and living with one to prevent himself from being killed was a bit much. The Archer she knew would rather be boiled in oil and forced to watch the Titanic remake – the movie they saw on their first date that he hated – than live with a Vulcan.

_Things change._

The way he’d gone on about her even during their mountain climbing expedition made her wonder if he harbored feelings for her. He’d recommended she have a Vulcan as a science officer, indicated how vital her presence was and ended up telling a few stories about the pointy-eared little creature. At the time, she’d decided he was bragging about someone under his command, though … she hadn’t remembered him boasting about any other officers, just T’Pol.

_Jon has changed._

No longer the cockiest guy in Starfleet – next to A.G. (before he passed away) – he was now less sure of himself, less naïve about space exploration, seemed more like a military commander and seemed to carry an overwhelming sadness around with him as if the universe had chewed him up and spit him out.

When they’d dated, he’d smugly take her around town and conversed with strangers about the space program. The guy had known everyone in town and all the best (and most secluded) restaurants to go to.

Only a few months ago, when Jon had been on Earth, he’d been reserved, darkly sullen and only talked about work … and not the kind about which nebulas were the most beautiful; the information he’d shared was which weapon does the most damage, how many MACOs should accompany Columbia and stories about T’Pol.

Trip brought her back into the moment. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do, but I sure as hell would like to try.”

Erika shrugged. This was a new one for her, but there had to be something. “Maybe we can involve Starfleet?”

“Think it’ll help any?” Trip asked.

“Although Starfleet doesn’t prohibit dating, they generally frown on officers marrying.”

“I thought it had never been done,” Trip said.

Staring at him with a lopsided frown, she agreed. “Precisely.”

It was then the two decided the best they could do is work with T’Pol to stop the captain.

* * *

T’Pol hurried behind Archer’s long stride. She tried reasoning with him, but he was stubborn and convinced the only appropriate way to deal with the situation is talk with Shran.

 

“Jhamel would never allow Shran to execute you.”

“When I accepted the challenge with Shran, I made a pledge … a vow that I obviously haven’t lived up to. The charade has gone on long enough … too long. I never should’ve agreed.”

“If it’s because of the way you feel ….”

“No.” He stopped only for a second. “I just think the best its best I talk with Shran.”

“I cannot permit this.”

“You’re a good first officer, but … this is the only way.” Grinning, he said, “And if worse comes to worst … as Phlox said, I’m sure you’d be a ‘decent and fair captain.’”

“Don’t,” she said, unamused.

“It’s for the best.”

“No.” With the last comment her hand clenched around his arm in a vice grip; she knew would be difficult for him to break free.

“T’Pol, let go.”

“I cannot allow you to die.”

“Let go.” With a little frustration, he bared down on her. “That’s an order.”

“I cannot.”

“As my first officer you’re obliged to follow my command. I’m giving you one, Commander.”

“I refuse to follow it.”

“T’Pol ….”

“I can’t allow you to die because … because …. I care for you.”

Emotion crept over her features and almost gave way to a frown. With trembling lips, she eased her mouth into a straight line, but the fissure in her façade was already apparent.

He licked his lips. “I care for you, too. But, if you’re my friend, you’ll let me do this.”

“Perhaps that is why I cannot carry out your command.”

Squinting green eyes stared at her with confusion.

“I’m not simply your friend.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m your wife.”

He shook his head. “You’re not my wife.”

“Yes I am. We’re married.”

“I know Vulcans are committed to their mates, but that’s not true of us,” he whispered.

“Please, Jonathan.”

He said something that struck a nerve for both of them. “We aren’t mates. We’re married in name only … like your marriage to Koss.”

That stung. As he turned to walk down the hall, her voice finally said the words she’d been thinking all week … maybe longer.

“I care for you … deeply,” she said. The words were mentioned quietly, but the impact of the moment made him stop in his tracks.

Staring at his back, she swallowed, flattened her lips together and then said a few more things.

“Our marriage has not been like the one I had with Koss.”

He turned slowly, waiting for more information.

“Koss and I were barely acquaintances before our wedding. We were hardly friends.”

Nodding, he hung his head down and for a moment, she knew he was hoping for something more. So, she gave it to him.

“Actually, I believe we’re _more_ than friends.”

His eyes met hers. “What is our relationship?”

As she heard the clopping of a crewmen’s boots, she waited. When the sound passed, she made a suggestion.

“Give me the chance to tell you. In private.”

Glancing down the hall, his eyes wandered to the corridor he needed to take to get to Shran’s room.

“Please?” she asked.

With a small frown, he took a heaving breath and nodded quickly.

Almost in relief, her features relaxed and she walked down the corridor with him into his room. The door slid shut and she stared into the mostly darkened room. As she glanced around, she attempted to resolve how to tell him how she felt.

After waiting for a few minutes, he finally prompted her, interrupting her train of thought.

“What did you want to say?” he asked.

Staring into his eyes, she knew how to broach the subject. She strolled over to him and placed her lips gently against his. His shock tingled down her spine and before thinking she opened her mouth against his. When their tongues touched, she reached behind his head and pulled him into her aggressively. Jonathan lightly pushed her away, probably to ask “why” or “what,” but rather than answering or allowing him to break their embrace permanently, she kissed at his neck and stood on tiptoe to nibble his earlobes.

Guardedly, he drew her closer and whispered into her ear. “Shran’s not behind me, is he?”

It was then she looked into his eyes. “You’re asking me if I’m doing this to prove we’re married?”

He gave a slight head nod.

She whispered back to him. “I am.”

At the moment she delivered those words, she felt his body sag with disappointment. Tugging slowly at his zipper, she added a few more words.

“To you.”

Bewilderment swept across his face and she touched his jaw. “I don’t want us to be ‘married’ in name only, Jonathan.”

He glanced down at the metal that tugged near his hips and stared up at her with disbelief.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She answered – deadpan. “I would’ve thought it was obvious.”

As if a torrent of passion was released from a dam, he swept her into his arms and kissed her. Before he knew it, she’d pulled his coveralls to his hips and attacked the buttons on the black shirt he wore under it. She could tell he understood it was encouragement to unzip her uniform.

Finally, his shirt dropped off his shoulders and she took the opportunity to kiss at his chest.

Playfully, as they headed to the bed — where she’d reasoned it would be easier for them to continue Archer made a comment.

“You’re not just doing this to convince me not to talk with Shran, are you?” he asked.

To answer the question she pushed him to the bed.

* * *

Trip watched Erika weave what he considered to be captain’s magic. Within an instant, she was flipping open her communicator, notifying people (without revealing the predicament) about staying aboard and settled on finding Shran.

 

“Commander, I hope you can lead me there.”

“Yes, ma’am” he said.

“Little formal, don’t you think?” she asked, smiling. “You don’t report to me for another three hours, Commander.”

Bashfully, he averted his eyes to the floor and took off down the hall.

To be truthful, he felt incredibly guilty. He had no idea about this bizarre clause that meant T’Pol couldn’t touch any man, but now that he knew he had to reason with the blue man or toss him in the brig.

He knew that Archer was headed there and things, if they saw the captain, were bound to heat up at the three of them ganging up against him.

As if second-guessing his comments, she added a few words. “I think Jonathan will try and admit everything.”

Trip agreed. “The cap’n isn’t the best negotiator.”

Erika smiled. “Not by a long shot.”

The two hurriedly left the party and marched over to Shran’s room. Ringing the chime, Trip wondered what kind of mayhem would be going on. When Shran and Jhamel answered the door together, without any sign of either the captain of his first officer, both humans became confounded.

“Where’s Cap’n Archer?”

Shran shrugged. “Preparing for tomorrow’s execution, I suppose.”

The Andorian was sharpening the blade that no doubt would cause Archer to die – it was small, but serrated.

“And his science officer?” Erika asked.

“I don’t know where the Vulcan is,” Shran said.

Jhamel intervened. “They haven’t spoken to us since we left.”

Trip decided to go ahead and proceed. “Listen, you gotta put a stop to this execution.”

“Sorry, Tucker. The rules are the rules.”

“T’Pol completely blew me off. She isn’t interested in me. She’s … in love with … her husband.”

As Erika turned her head with mild interest at his comment, Jhamel nodded.

“I’ve been trying to tell him that,” the Aenar said.

Erika played the part of peacemaker. “Look, if Commander Tucker indicated the gesture wasn’t romantic, isn’t there a provision in your law? What if a brother and sister hugged?”

Shran squinted his eyes with skepticism. “They are hardly brother and sister.”

Trip vigorously nodded in agreement. “Yeah, well the hug was more like that though – friendly ….”

Shran’s antennae became erect. “Archer said you were intimate with her.”

“That was a long time ago,” Tucker said.

Erika barely twitched an eyebrow at the comment.

Jhamel agreed. “Although she thinks highly of Commander Tucker, that relationship has ended.”

Trip hung his head to his chest, pained by the Aenar bringing up that sore subject.

“Andorian law does say that the one who made the challenge can waive the execution if he’s convinced about the marriage,” Shran said.

Erika asked, “Then you have leeway?”

The Andorian nodded.

“Perhaps you can discuss this with Jon tomorrow, instead of executing him?”

To add to the pressure, Jhamel touched his arm and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. The Andorian didn’t exactly agree, but didn’t disagree either, which Trip took as good news.

Erika smiled. “That’s all we wanted – a chance for Commander T’Pol to explain.”

“I’ll visit him,” Shran said.

As the engineer was about to ask a follow up question, he saw Erika head out the door.

“You did well, Tucker,” she said.

“Trip,” he corrected her. “I’m not under your command for another two hours.”

“That’s true.”

When they reached the Mess Hall again, it was completely deserted. Even most of the food had been removed from the table.

“Too bad everyone left the party,” Trip said with a sigh.

Erika turned to him. “Did you know they created something called an observation deck for the Columbia. You can see the stars from there. And, it has a small cafeteria like a diner adjacent.”

“You inviting me aboard?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I have a bottle of champagne I’ve been waiting to open. Something tells me welcoming my new chief engineer would be the right time.”

Giving a grin of his own, he decided he wouldn’t exactly watch water polo with the woman, but he could definitely respect … and admire her.

* * *

Shran paced around his room. Jhamel had tried to explain that the Vulcan really loved Archer and the two were married, but the Andorian had to ask the two. The evidence thus far had all added up to one thing: there was an awful lot of deceit going around.

 

He didn’t want to kill Archer … especially in front of his crew through a ritual that would make him slice the captain’s stomach open and rip out all the soft matter that lie behind his belly. Although Shran had seen a lot of battle and had killed many men, he couldn’t imagine torturing someone like that … particularly not Archer.

“I know you care for him.” She lay her head on his shoulder and added more. “Actually, I think you care for both of them.”

_The Vulcan? Never!_

She nibbled on his neck and allowed her antennae to stroke the area around her soft kisses. Obviously, the woman (like all women) was savvy to her womanly wiles. It was definitely deteriorating his will.

Curling a hand around his waist, she murmured into his ear. “Maybe you can wait until … tomorrow to question them. I can think of other things we could do right now.”

_He couldn’t disagree._

Taking a chance, he kissed her lips and was happy when she returned the embrace eagerly.

“Come to bed with me,” she whispered.

He kissed her more hotly, a fire rushing through his icy veins. As the two made their way to the cramped bunk, just as they had earlier than day, and stripped each other, Shran thought in the back of his mind, he’d visit Archer that night.

_No sense putting it off until tomorrow morning. I still have the pass codes._

After a couple of hours and when Shran heard the gentle and steady breathing of Jhamel’s sleep, he slipped back into his clothes and did something he hadn’t in a night or so … headed to Archer’s room.

Creeping down the hall, he entered the pass codes for Archer’s room. Staring into the darkened room, trying to adjust his eyes, he tried to determine whether they were there. Finally, his keen eyesight adjusted and he saw into the room as the door slid shut behind him.

Two figures looked like they were wrestling under the covers. As he took a step closer he realized a few things: one – Archer’s shoulders was bare; two – he was hovering over the Vulcan while kissing her and staring into her eyes; and three – the Vulcan’s eyes were squeezed shut.

And then his suspicions were confirmed.

“Oh God,” Archer said, louder than a whisper.

The Vulcan’s hands reached around his head and she arched into him as she kissed him deeply. As the covers fell away with her movement, the Andorian realized the moment was intimate … quite intimate.

_The Vulcan and pink skin are having sex!_

“Jonathan,” she whispered. It was barely loud enough for him to hear, but sounded like someone calling out to a lover.

_They don’t know I’m here._

The Andorian decided that what Commander Tucker and the pink skin’s ex-girlfriend indicated was probably true; Archer and the Vulcan were in love. Just as everything began to reach an uncomfortable head, Shran backed up (too allow them some privacy) and accidentally smacked into the wall. The couple broke apart and clutched the sheets to them. Archer, clearly attempting to catch his breath, tried to form some words (without much luck); the Vulcan beat him to it.

“Why are you here?” she asked. She sounded as _angry_ as he’d ever heard a Vulcan.

Shran frowned. “I wanted to ask you and the pink skin some questions to decide whether or not to kill him tomorrow.”

Regaining some of his composure, Archer sneered. “Get out!”

_The Earthling wasn’t going to bully a member of the Imperial Guard!_

“I said I had questions!” Shran said.

Clenching his jaw, which the Andorian knew meant the pink skin was particularly mad, Archer spoke harshly.

“If you don’t get the hell out, I’m gonna toss you out!”

Puffing out his chest, Shran dared him to get out of bed.

T’Pol threw her arm in front of Archer, intercepting the man as he strained to meet the challenge, and then calmly asked a question.

“What do you want?”

“What!” Archer said.

“Jonathan, he’s here.” Turning slightly toward him, she whispered in his ear and he seemed to begrudgingly accept the Andorian’s presence.

“Fine,” he said, curtly.

_That’s more like it!_

“So, Vulcan, you held Tucker as a friend?”

“Yes.” She tipped her eyebrow and glanced sideways at Archer. “The commander admitted his affection for me. I had just revealed I did not feel the same way.”

_That seems to match adequately._

Fixing her gaze back at Shran, she continued. “I know from my past relationship with Tucker … and understand from his friendship, he needed comforting.”

“I didn’t think Vulcans would console someone,” Shran said.

“We’re logical beings … emotionless for the most part, but not cruel. Even _I_ know humans sometimes need the reassurance and intimacy of touch.”

“Intimacy like now?” Shran asked, smiling.

It caused the human to glower.

“No. This is a closeness between two people who care deeply for each other. It is the logical conclusion to our feelings and our attraction: physical unity.”

The wording, made Archer kiss her temple lovingly. Instead of shooing away his affection, she closed her eyes briefly as if relishing it.

_I’ve obviously been wrong about these two._

Snapping out of a something like a daydream, Archer stared at Shran.

“T’Pol, I don’t want to lie to Shran anymore.”

“No,” she said. The plea to stop sounded almost _emotional_.

The Andorian noticed he met his eyes.

“Almost everything you’ve accused us of has been true. We married because of the challenge. She moved in here to eliminate your suspicions. But, strangely enough by living together and interacting like a married couple, we realized we were already in love. I was jealous about Trip ….”

T’Pol whispered. “Don’t.”

“I might as well tell him everything,” Archer said, caressing her cheek. “Shran, I’ve lied to you.”

The door chime rang, something Shran hadn’t heard since he’d boarded Enterprise. As Archer mumbled something about Grand Central Station, Jhamel poked an antennae across the threshold.

“Come on in,” Shran said.

“I got a better idea. Why don’t you take Shran out with you,” Archer said. It wasn’t quite a yell, but it was heading in that direction.

The Aenar seemed uncomfortable. “Shran, why are you bothering them? They’ve obviously come from love’s tangled embrace.”

Shran softened a little; she had a way of doing that to him. “I had to make sure the pink skin wasn’t deceiving me. It seems my instincts were right. He was just in the middle of a confession ….”

“A confession?” she asked.

“I told him everything Jhamel,” Archer said.

Confusion set onto the Aenar’s face as her antennae moved haphazardly.

“Everything?” she asked.

“Yes. I didn’t think it was fair to lie to him,” Archer confessed.

Shrugging slightly, she gazed into space. “Lying about what?”

“You know,” he said.

“No,” she whispered.

“About how T’Pol and I aren’t married.”

T’Pol corrected him. “We are.”

He gave a small smile. “We are, but … that we married to avoid the challenge.”

Jhamel beamed. “Captain, you don’t need to fabricate tales to encourage us to leave you and your wife alone.”

“No.” Puzzled, he furrowed his brow. “T’Pol said you knew about everything.”

Shran whipped his head toward the lovely creature next to him. Shyly, she shook her head. “I read that he is deceiving you now. He wants to continue making love with his wife and hopes this will encourage us to leave him alone.”

For a moment the blue man wondered. And then staring at her, he figured she must be telling the truth. The little albino was innocent and naïve – utterly incapable of falsehoods. Besides, he’d witnessed the two acting like dragnars and caressing each other.

_They are in love … just like Jhamel and me._

The Aenar wrapped her hand around Shran’s and lead him out. As the door was closing the Andorian overheard something, even with his poor hearing.

“Where were we?” the Vulcan asked.

“I’m not really in the mood to … _oh_.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to continue?”

“Mmmmm,” he said as the sheets rustled. “Maybe we can recapture the moment.”

TBC

 


	14. Chapter 14

Archer woke up, curled up to a naked woman and smiled. Propping up on his side and shoving an elbow on his pillow and a hand under his cheek, he watched her. And then lazily, he drifted his fingertip along the curve of her ear and then gently touched the point. With her hands tucked neatly under her cheek and her lips parted only marginally, he had to admit – she looked adorable. It made his face automatically twitch into a lopsided smile.

On the one hand, he hated to wake her from such a restful looking slumber and on the other he desperately wanted to talk with her … even if he was unsure what to say.

She stirred and raised an eyebrow at his beaming.

“Sleep okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He decided to be truthful. “Best sleep I’ve had all week.”

“Indeed.”

He gave a contented sigh.

“What time are you scheduled to be on the Bridge?” she asked.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the clock. “Two hours. You?”

Peeking over his shoulder at the same clock, she answered him. “Three.”

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Not at the moment.”

The two studied each other for a few moments, which Archer took to mean they were hoping the other would speak first.

Since he knew the Vulcan could outwait him, he took the plunge as his fingers fidgeted to smooth his bed sheets over T’Pol’s bare shoulders.

“I loved being with you last night,” he said. “It was incredible.”

She gazed at him in response, but didn’t say anything. Furrowing his brow, he admitted to himself it was a hit to his ego. So, he swallowed deeply.

“I … uhm … huh,” he said. Pausing, he stared at her, hoping she’d say something.

When she didn’t, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly all the little emotions he should’ve felt before being pushed to the bed and then stripping her out of her clothes niggled his brain; guilt was the biggest. Although he hadn’t taken advantage of her, in the back of his mind he’d wondered if they were both vulnerable and giving into lust. Well, for his part he wasn’t. He’d assumed by everything she’d said, she wasn’t either.

She turned onto her side. “Have I upset you?”

“No.”

Both of her eyebrows slid up near her bangs, as if she was unconvinced so he opened up a little.

“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked.

“Couldn’t you tell?” she asked.

Producing a small smile, he thought about her whimpers and the way her entire body clutched his several times over. Touching the side of her face and running his thumb along her cheekbone, he provided a nod.

“I think you enjoyed it.”

To confirm it, she gave him a kiss. Backing away, she whispered to him. “Very much.”

Her foot ran along his hairy leg and he took another deep breath. _I could get used to this._

“You … don’t regret anything? Do you?” she asked. Her foot stropped teasing his feet and left calf.

“No,” he said, grinning. And then suddenly his face fell. “Why do you?”

As if relieved, her toes rubbed against his hairy ones. “No.”

His eyes slowly blinked, drowsy with sleep, and his fingers reached for hers to play with them. Even last night, he noticed when their hands touched his spine tingled as if harmless shocks of electricity zapped it.

“Do you like touching my fingers?” she asked.

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

Stopping her fingers from intermingling with his, she pressed her forefinger and middle finger together and held them out into the air, demonstrating the gesture.

“Hold your hand like this,” she said.

He obeyed and felt her fingers slide along his. Immediately, he felt the ticklish sensation of electricity zinging along his spine. The longer their fingers caressed though, the more he realized the shocks were affecting other parts of his body and he gave a pant.

“You are fond of that?” she asked. Her own mouth hung open as if in pleasure.

“Yes,” he whispered.

As she glided her fingers up his arm and shoulder, he heard himself groan.

“This is how Vulcans express … care and affection.”

Dancing up his throat and jaw, her fingers eventually ran along his lips. He kissed at them and tugged her to him, to plant his mouth on hers. But, before doing so, he said the words he’d been really waiting to say for sometime … ever since they were captured on Coridan.

“I love you, T’Pol.”

“I cherish you as well.”

And then his lips captured hers as his fingers mimicked the movements she’d just shown him. With satisfaction, he watched her eyes flutter closed.

His fingers gently ran along her bare shoulders and his mouth nibbled at her neck. Quietly, he spoke into the nape of her neck.

“I want to ….”

Before he could finish, she interrupted him by covering his body with hers and pressing her mouth to his. The moment she broke for air, she whispered against his lips.

“I want to as well.”

* * *

Trip opened his eyes and glanced around his new quarters with surprise.

I still can’t believe I’m not aboard Enterprise.

Glancing at his sister, who was smiling in the frame next to his head, he remembered the event. It was about seven years ago when he managed to get a promotion from Lieutenant to Lieutenant Commander. He had taken her to one of the fanciest restaurants in San Francisco. She’d just accepted a job offer to work close to home for a small architecture firm. Deciding the two needed to celebrate, she’d insisted on buying dinner for her. After having too much wine and too much food, the two had wandered back to her hotel and spent the entire night reminiscing about every single high point in their lives including a fight he’d caused because someone called his little sister a name he couldn’t remember, the time she’d covered for him when he’d stayed out all night with a girl and his graduation from the Academy where he’d sneaked her in to have alcohol and hang out with some of his friends.

I miss you, he thought.

As he was about to put his head on the pillow again, he overheard someone on the comm.

“Hernandez to Tucker.”

Jumping up to find the comm, he finally located it hiding across the room. _Definitely not where the old one was._

“Tucker here,” he said finally.

“Commander, you going to sleep all day, or you going to have breakfast with me?”

_Oh, shit. I was due there about five minutes ago._ “Coming, ma’am!”

“Good. I wanted to debrief on the status of the engines before your first day.”

“Be there in two shakes ….”

She laughed. “Very well.”

After taking five minutes to get ready – including brushing his teeth, washing his face and taking a quick shower – he jogged down the hallways to the Captain’s Mess glad that it was in the same location as the one on Enterprise.

As he walked in, Erika was dressed in her coveralls drinking tea. Once she saw him she smiled.

“How was your first night in your new home?”

“Okay,” he lied. It took him a while to get to sleep.

“Good! You know we’re more than six months behind launch.”

“Yes, ma’am. Already looked at the specs and schematics. I think you’re having the same problem we did when we first launched – slight flux with the intermix ratio. Should be a quick fix. I might be able to have her ready in 72 hours.”

She smiled. “Excellent. Jon was right – you’re a whiz.”

He gave a lopsided grin and then looked down at his breakfast, which was brought directly to him … even without ordering. The woman obviously knew what he liked – two eggs – sunny side up, two bacon, two pancakes, a glass of orange juice and coffee (without cream and sugar).

“I heard from some of your pals you might like this.”

“I had this for breakfast nearly every day.”

His fork tore open the eggs, letting the yellow yolk stream across his plate, and then stabbed at a pancake. Shoveling it into his mouth, he had to grin.

These pancakes are better than Chef’s.

Almost reading his mind, Erika pointed to his meal. “Cook doesn’t let anyone know the secret ingredient to what makes those pancakes so damned good. But, I have it on good authority he uses almond as well as vanilla and only egg whites.”

“These are better than the ones on Enterprise,” he said – a mouth full of the substance.

“I know you chose to stay with Columbia to … escape some of your problems.”

Yeah, she knew that first hand.

“But, I’m hoping you’ll like staying here. I think there are plenty of advantages, including our food.”

“You certainly have made me feel at home. And you’re right about the observation deck. I wish Enterprise had something like that.”

Sipping her tea, she beamed at him. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

Throwing down a little of his orange juice, he gave her a sly grin. “I’m sure we will be.”

Placing her mug carefully on the table and standing up, she hurled a look of authority his direction.

“You owe me a bottle of champagne, Mister.”

He agreed. “Same time tonight?”

“Look forward to it.” With that, she left.

* * *

Shran looked out the window, staring at the stars zipping past. Only an hour earlier Archer told Shran and Jhamel to expect to be back on Andoria in about a day. Ever since then, the Andorian had wondered what would happen when he returned to his home planet.

_I certainly won’t have a ship to command. The General will_ see _to that._

Worse, he couldn’t imagine what would happen between he and the Aenar. Sharing quarters with her, almost as he’d done with Talas, he’d grown attached to her. Although she wasn’t like Andorian women, he’d learned to appreciate that subtle difference. The young woman was sage and refined. Instead of snarling about vengeance and honor, she discussed the pacifism of her people and the way in which those who cared for each other touched minds.

Another thing that seemed foreign – Andorians were ruthless when it came to their gene pool. Those with disabilities were abandoned or killed. Jhamel was blind … and would be seen as a misfit from his own people.

_Ironic she has better eyesight than anyone I know_.

Jhamel, who must’ve been sensing his pensive mood, sat down on the bunk with him.

“You’re thinking about your home?”

“Yes,” he said. “Reading my mind?”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t have to read your mind to know when you are upset. You’ve been sitting on that bunk for two hours and haven’t said a word.”

“I have a lot on my mind,” he said, letting his antennae droop.

“Like what?” she asked. Her fingers began to stroke his antennae, which he enjoyed … thoroughly.

Cooing lowly, he confessed to her. “My status as commander, living among my people again ….” As his antennae nuzzled against her fingers, he quietly said one word. “You.”

“You wonder about me?”

He didn’t answer, hoping she would take the hint and divulge her plans.

“I will go back to my people and tell them what has happened to my brother.”

With a boyishly hopeful voice, he asked a question. “And then?”

“Shran,” she said, smiling, “you want to know about _us_.”

His antennae suddenly fled from her hand and he puffed up his chest. “A member of the Imperial Guard doesn’t ask about relationships.”

A then he gave a sideways glance, wondering what she was thinking.

Weaving her finger in his white hair, she whispered to him. “It was not grief that let me fall into your arms.”

He tried to stifle a grin, which he was mostly unsuccessful at.

“I was hoping we could continue our relationship,” she whispered. “You said you liked the ice caves ….”

“Among your people?” he asked. It was something he hadn’t really considered.

“Yes.”

Screwing up his lips into the side of his cheek, he wondered.

“I’ve been thinking … we could make a family there,” she said.

Surprised antennae flung straight into the air.

“If you want a family,” she said.

He was silent. In all his years, he’d always imagined himself attending marriages, not involved in one.

“You said Andorian women are more aggressive?” she asked.

Shran’s head fell. “Yes.”

“Then,” she said, whispering. “I want you as my husband.”

The Andorian gave a broad smile. “You know at proposals the couple sheds blood.”

Jhamel blinked quickly and Shran gave a low chuckle. “I think we can forgo that tradition.”

“Then you accept?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

The two kissed deeply. As their lips left each other’s, Shran decided to let her in on another Andorian tradition.

“I’m also supposed to impregnate you within one month of our marriage. It’s a way our males serve our women and ensure their line survives.”

She was still.

“You said you wanted a family,” he whispered.

“I was quiet because the Aenar have a similar tradition. I wasn’t sure if you would want that.”

The Andorian gave a bashful grin. “I want children … with you.”

Throwing her arms around his neck, she wept almost as a girl. “I love you.”

* * *

Archer walked ahead with Shran and the two were mostly quiet. As they rounded the last of the corridors, the captain finally said a few begrudging words.

“I’m glad you came aboard, even if I regret the circumstances.”

“I’m glad, too, pink skin.”

After a pause, Shran spoke up. “I left bottles of Andorian ale for you. I hope you like them.”

“That was thoughtful.”

“Least I could do for … interrupting you and your wife on several occasions.”

“The least,” Archer said. The captain was tempted to give an eye roll, but held back.

“You know, the Vulcan … I guess I can understand the appeal. She’s attractive, but … she’s also serene.”

Sighing a little, the captain nodded his head.

“Do all humans become this insipid after marriage?”

The human frowned. “I’m sure it affects everyone differently. T’Pol said you’ll be joining that club?”

Puffing out his chest, he spoke up. “I accepted her proposal.”

“Her proposal?”

“Yes. Andorian men never make the first move.”

Archer shook his head. “I had no idea.”

“Males are the weaker sex, I’m expected to seed her with children and rear them. Good thing Andorian males are … potent.”

Archer winced.

“Tell me,” Shran said. “Will you and the Vulcan have children?”

“I don’t know.” The question felt much more bizarre than it was intended and reminded the captain he was still married.

“Well, if you do, pink skin, I hope our children are friends. And … maybe you can visit us if you’re in the solar system.”

Archer clapped his back. “Maybe.”

* * *

As the men continued to talk, Jhamel and T’Pol fell considerably behind. They had quite a bit to discuss.

“I wanted to thank you for saving Jonathan,” T’Pol said.

“As I said, we were at a impasse. Besides, I owe you a debt. If I hadn’t come here, I never would’ve met him and found love.”

The Vulcan wondered with some irony if Shran hadn’t visited Enterprise whether her feelings and the captain’s would’ve come to light. _Fascinating._

“Do you think Shran will enjoy living among the Aenar?”

Jhamel’s antennae wiggled. “I wonder. I know I will enjoy his company and he will enjoy mine. I know it is a good place to raise our children.”

“You are with child?”

Jhamel stopped the Vulcan, without touching her. Quietly, the women agreed. “I don’t think Shran knows.”

“Did your circumstance encourage your decision to marry him?”

She smiled sweetly. “No. Aenars when … happy … release multiple eggs. If I wasn’t in love, I never would’ve conceived.”

“And you can tell your condition already?” she asked.

The Aenar gave an odd smile. “We _are_ telepaths. I can _feel_ the life inside of me.”

T’Pol tipped her eyebrow.

“Would you like my advice?” asked the young woman.

The Vulcan stared on without showing surprise.

“It is a rare thing for a Vulcan, as I understand, to feel as you do.”

She admitted as much. “You’re correct.”

“Then that’s something to think about.” With that, the little albino walked ahead and joined Shran.

Lovingly, the Andorian put his arm around her. “Are you ready?”

The two let their antennae wander and stroke the others as T’Pol and Archer watched, stunned at the site. And then suddenly they both stepped onto the transporter pad. T’Pol strolled behind it and gave a Vulcan greeting to them.

“Live long and prosper,” she said.

“Take care, Vulcan.”

Archer gave a small wave and the two shimmered out until they vanished. The moment they were gone, the captain hung his head to his chest and gave a deep chuckle.

“I’m going to miss Shran.”

“I enjoyed their company as well,” T’Pol said.

“You know,” he whispered, “there’s really no point in us being married any longer.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“I mean … now that Shran is gone and the week is up.”

“Do you want to end our marriage?” she asked.

“Do you?” he asked.

Without answering his question, she shuffled her feet. “I have grown … accustomed to your presence.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Perhaps, then, it’s … logical to keep our status.”

“Humans take marriage very seriously.”

“As do Vulcans.” Quietly remembering Koss, she decided to change her answer. “I take marriage seriously.”

“I don’t want to divorce, but it seems marriage is a big step.”

“A step we’ve already taken.”

“Sure technically … it just ….”

“We’ve been married for almost an Earth week.”

Closing in on her, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Maybe because we slept with each other, it feels more real today.”

“We’ve been sleeping together for almost an Earth week as well.”

He produced a small smile and leaned over to her ear and whispered his real meaning. “Since we made love.”

“Oh,” she commented. “Yes, I hypothesize that’s true.”

“Maybe we should just … stay married and let nature take its course. Either it works out or it doesn’t.”

“Do you think it won’t … ‘work out’?” she asked.

“I’ve cared about you for some time. We’ve had a week to get used to each other’s flaws …. I think our chances are good.” Looking into her eyes, he could feel his heart beat in his chest and said a few words earnestly. “I think our chances are very good.”

“Sounds … logical.”

“Until we figure things out … you can sleep wherever you want. I mean, we both can.”

“I’d like to spend tonight with you,” she said.

Surprise sprang onto his face.

“If that’s acceptable.”

“I’d like that.”

As they headed back to the turbolift, T’Pol said something quietly. “Jhamel indicated she was carrying Shran’s child.”

“That was fast.”

She agreed. “The Aenar indicated that her species is … highly fertile at specific times.”

“You know …,” Archer said as they stepped into the turbolift.

T’Pol’s eyes focused on his.

“I read the last five paragraphs.”

“Of Andorian law? The ones I indicated you didn’t have to read?”

“Yes.”

“About children?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.”

He shrugged and then slipped his hand around hers, giddy at the shocks traveling along his spine.

“When a human couple gets married … they talk about children. You know … whether they want to have them or not,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I was thinking … if we decide to stay married … would you want to …?” he asked.

“Have children?” she clarified.

“Sure. You know … if we agree to stay married.”

“Now?”

“No. No … sometime in the future. If we’re still interested in staying married.”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly?”

“Perhaps.”

“So, maybe?”

“If we decide to stay married and if it’s some time in the future … I would want to. And at least we’ve seen human and Vulcan DNA is compatible.”

“That’s true.”

The two fingers she used for a Vulcan embrace slid along his, causing him to smile.

“What time should I expect you tonight?”

“I get off at 2200. My clothes and toiletries are still there. Perhaps for the time being I can keep them there?”

He smiled. “Sure. So, I’ll see you at 2200?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have a glass of wine waiting for you.” Before she could say anything he explained. “I know you don’t drink often, but I thought it might be … romantic.”

Staring into his eyes, she said a few words. “I hope we’ll be drinking in bed.”

Just as he opened his mouth, she added a few more things.

“And I hope you’ll be dressed as you do every night.”

Confusion set in his brow.

“Nude,” she said. As she did, her fingers fell at her side and she maintained a stoic veneer, excepting the turbolift to come to a halt.

The moment he was about to quip back, the doors to the Bridge opened. Attempting to cool the red that rushed to his cheeks, he provided a sheepish smile.

Sitting down in his chair, while no one saw him, he glanced carefully down at his watch. It was already 1900. He got off in an hour.

Excusing himself, he decided to head to his Ready Room and ask Chef to pull a bottle of red wine.

 


End file.
